What She Needs
by Angoisse
Summary: Faith is drowning in prison as her guilt consumes her. Cordelia discovers that she is willing to go back to Sunnydale if that's what it will take to save her. Tara can see in Faith what no one else can. Faith/Tara will occur.
1. A Return

What She Needs

Part One: _A Return_

"We're going to have to take measures for her protection, Miss Chase."

Cordelia frowned, for once not caring if she would wrinkle. She ran a shaking hand through her long hair and stood.

"Whatever it takes. Don't rough her up," was her reply. Ever the queen, she did not wait for her commands to be accepted. She left.

In a cell nearby, one Grace Collins, nicknamed 'Rat', paced restlessly. She worried as well. In the past, her cellmates had been one of two things: her bitches, or dead. Sometimes, they ended up being both. She was a big woman, a lifer, and she didn't care about anything but satisfying her needs. Why care about anything, really? But when Faith Lehane walked in, she knew that her apathy had nothing on this girl.

It was fine for the first two weeks. Faith was quiet, she stayed out of Rat's way, and Grace didn't think much of her. She was unusually young for a murder charge, but nothing Grace hadn't seen before. A lot prettier than most of the 'mates, sure, yet she made no move to use that to her advantage. Usually the cute girls went straight to the gangs, trading sex for protection. Grace thought Faith was an oddball.

Then, another inmate decided she wanted Faith as a pet. A girl they called 'Jaybird', head of the coke gang in prison, came up to Faith at lunch and told her loud and clear that she planned to have Faith on her knees for her. The moment her boast left her lips it was replaced by Faith's fist. Jay got away with a couple fewer teeth. Faith stood staring at her bloodied hand for the rest of the break, and when she looked up, Grace saw something different in her eyes. Before, they had been unfocused, which she had taken to mean that Faith didn't give a shit about prison. These eyes were dark with anger. Faith's brow remained furrowed for the rest of the day, even as she was left in solitary for the night.

That was the first night that Faith dreamed. The entire cellblock knew it, too, because she screamed a few times. When she was back in her cell with Grace, she tore apart some sheets and gagged herself at night. It was then that Grace began to respect her cellmate. She was a fucking weirdo, but she had balls.

Another month passed without incident. Faith continued to keep to herself, reading all day and spasming all night. Once, Grace asked her what her problem was sleeping. Faith spoke to her for the first time ever:

"Nothing a rabid bear like you would understand, bitch. Back off."

Grace took no offence. She'd heard worse.

Over time, Faith got worse. She got jumped in the showers, fought back, and went to solitary. There, she dug her nails into her own arms and _pulled_. The result was disgusting. After that, the inmates named her 'Tiger', for her stripes.

Each time that Faith got blood on her hands, she punished herself. Grace didn't understand. In her mind, Faith was a cross between a pussy and a bull: she wouldn't fight for what she wanted, but she could fuck you up for good if she needed to. For a con, that was practically angelic. In prison, you could be a shark or a minnow. Faith chose to be neither.

The latest crack had been by far the worst. Jaybird, angry at Faith's rejection, had taken her time to stage a showdown. She'd bribed some guards to stand by as she took Faith on from behind with a shiv. Two of her girls had grabbed onto Faith from each side to hold her down as Jay came at her with the weapon. A single, long slice had marred Faith's skin before she broke free and, instinct firmly in control, twisted Jay's makeshift knife into the shocked girl's throat.

It wasn't Jay's death that had caused Grace's worry. As Rat walked back and forth across her cell, she cringed at the images in her head. She'd seen violence. She'd played God once or twice above the prone body of a man. What Faith had attempted was something altogether different.

She'd tried to take her own head off.

She'd nearly succeeded. Her hands had grasped either side of her jaw. She had forcibly turned her head past normal limits on either side. She'd gouged long tears on her face with her fingers. Grace had been able to do nothing but watch and scream for the guards. She'd been rooted to the spot.

And now, in her post-shock haze, she paced.

* * *

This wasn't the first time Cordelia had come to visit Faith. She had made the trip regularly over the past few months, stopping by to see what she had come to believe was one of her closest friends, a younger sister perhaps. Was Faith the young one or the old one? It was hard to tell. Cordelia knew that according to birth certificates, she stood a year and two months Faith's senior. But her mind knew that Faith far surpassed her experientially.

Cordelia had first seen Faith at the behest of Angel. She hadn't protested only because she knew that Faith had begged for death from that same Angel. Her curiosity brought her to the prison gates. Her first question to Faith had been:

"What's up with the emo face? Hoping Buffy came by to finish you off?"

Tact was never her strong suit.

"I wouldn't say no if she did," came the sobering response. This was not the Faith she had known. This voice was rusty from lack of use. This skin was pale and fleshy. These eyes were bloodshot. This girl was lost. "I'm past any chance of forgiveness."

"No one should hope for death. Not even you, Faith," Cordelia had whispered through the phone. Faith had just smirked - even her usual cocky grin lacked in luster.

"Tell me how the dykes are treating you," Cordelia had settled on eventually with forced lightheartedness. Faith had caught her humor and smiled just a bit. For Cordelia, that was a success.

The rest of their time together had passed similarly: Cordelia snarked and rambled while Faith stayed mostly silent.

In time, Cordelia had come to trust that Faith was not evil, and Faith had come to trust that Cordelia didn't hate her. It was one of the few things that kept her going, kept her hoping, she told Cordelia once.

"If I can get you to forgive me, maybe there's a chance…maybe I can do right again."

Cordelia wanted Faith to have that chance.

She didn't want to lose Faith to her guilt. Seeing Faith in the prison infirmary again, this time with a suicide attempt, wasn't acceptable. Her hand traced the numbers of Faith's vitals on a screen and Cordelia willed Faith not to die like this.

Faith's jaw was broken on both sides. Her skull was misaligned with her spine due to her pulling it out of place. She had superficial injuries all over her face. The cut on her back was wide and long but not too deep. It needed eighteen stitches.

Cordelia called Angel.

"Angel."

"Yes?"

"Come to the prison."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

Cordelia called Wesley.

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, who may I ask is calling?"

"Wes. Get to the prison."

"I am on my way."

Cordelia called the office.

"Angel Investigations, we help the helpless."

"Gunn. Prison. Now. Get Fred too."

And so she waited.

Angel's entire crew soon surrounded Faith's bed. Cordelia knew better than to ask how they'd gotten permission to be here. They hadn't.

"When will she wake up?" Angel asked lowly.

"They're saying she'll be out for at least a day or two, so I'm guessing she'll be around in four hours or so," Cordelia murmured. Angel nodded back.

Cordelia stood at the head of the bed, gently parting Faith's hair again and again. She remembered what Faith had told her last:

"Queenie, if you haven't found what you want, keep looking. Maybe it's not at the top shelf of the supermarket. Maybe it's the cheesy bodega knockoff that's twice as good that you'd never consider before."

Faith was right. Angel didn't fit well with her, and she didn't fit well with him. In her own way, Faith was kind of brilliant. She turned food into romance philosophy.

Cordelia smiled. Faith would be okay. She had to be.

Gunn stood next to Cordelia. He didn't touch Faith – he barely knew her. He did know that Cordelia needed support right now.

"She looks like one hell of a tough bitch. I wouldn't worry about her," he supplied amicably. Cordelia didn't laugh, but she slapped him lightly on the shoulder, and he knew that she would be all right.

Wesley held himself taut at the foot of the bed. He fought his fear of Faith with his concern for a woman who was once his responsibility – something he had done a poor job of recognizing in the past. His torture was fresh in his mind, but so too was the look in her eyes as she begged for forgiveness and screamed that she hated herself.

Fred was removed from the group. She, like Gunn, did not know Faith well. However, she could see that the girl before her was vulnerable. She felt a kinship with Faith; she had ugly scars from Pylea that she would never want anyone to see, and Faith looked like she had the same problem. Her arms were riddled with scars between her 'tiger stripes'. The edge of what might have been a tattoo poked out of one on her shoulder. Fred knew what it was like to have marks. At one point, she'd been branded.

Angel held Faith's hand from her other side. He whispered to her,

"We just want you to get better, Faith, can't you see that?"

* * *

By the time Faith woke up, Cordelia was alone again. Since she was no fighter, she could be spared for longer. The wheels in her head were turning angrily. She would not stand for this from Faith. She would fix it.

She accompanied the guards as they wrapped a groggy Faith in a straightjacket and led her to an empty cell. Mattresses had been attached to all of the walls and floor.

"We don't have a psych unit," the guard explained almost sheepishly.

Faith dropped to the floor in her cell and shook. Immediately, Cordelia was at her side, asking her what she was thinking.

"I killed again, Cor. I can't live without killing people. It's in my blood, it's in my head, and it's on my hands. It's like I'm supposed to slay myself, ya know? So I tried. I fucking tried. Tell B that, woulja? That I did like I should for once."

Cordelia wept.

"I can't let you do that, Faith. You're not a demon to be destroyed," she whispered.

"And why not? Just get out, Queenie, while you still can. You'n Angel and all'a them. Need to give up on me. Can't you just let me go? Solve a lotta problems if I poof."

"No, I can't," Cordelia stated fiercely, "and I won't. Where did you go, Faith? Where did all of your spark go? I miss you."

"I can't spark anymore, Cordy," Faith mumbled, "not since I lost my marbles. Gonna have to raincheck on the fireworks display. But it's still pretty at night. Between me and you, I used to be afraid of the dark. Momma never forgave me for that."

Faith's eyes glazed over as she rambled, her medication sending her straight to sleep. Cordelia watched her for a few moments before she stood and left the room.

She needed help. It was time to go back to the beginning.

* * *

"Angel, you know as well as I do that she'll only recover if she can forgive herself."

"She's not ready to face them."

"It doesn't matter. We don't have time."

"They'd feed her to wolves rather than help her.

"So we give up? We let her die?"

"She won't necessarily die…"

"She'll find a way."

"Fine."

Cordelia always wins in the end.


	2. Home

A/N: I may need some help getting the Buffy timeline straight; so if I get anything wrong, let me know.

* * *

What She Needs

Part two: _Home_

The Scoobies, as always, were in the middle of a disaster. College life was driving people nuts, frat boys were actually secret agents, and Cordelia decided she didn't care to play catch-up.

"As much as I'd love to have your shit dumped on me along with everything else, I came here for a reason," she sighed dramatically, and sent a pointed glare Buffy's way. In response, Buffy sneered and called a Scooby meeting (Giles included).

"It's kind of a bad time. Can we fight over high school later?" the Heroine proclaimed. Willow snickered, Xander grinned, and the other two blondes in the room just blinked.

Giles made the first move towards productivity.

"I'm sure this is not a social call, Buffy. What do you need, Cordelia?" Cordelia smiled. Having Giles around to keep Buffy in check would be useful. With a little luck, she'd leave the room still breathing. If the Powers gave her a freebie, she might even leave with something useful.

"It's about –" she paused to prepare herself, "Faith." Immediate uproar overtook the room. Buffy started to ruthlessly interrogate her about what evils Faith had done this time. Willow's veins not only popped out but also seemed to turn black – which would have disturbed Cordelia far more if her focus weren't so divided. Anya dove for the couch and screamed to Xander that she needed protection from the psycho killer. Xander made no reply, as he was too busy twitching fearfully. Giles stood uncertainly in the midst of the chaos, unwilling to bring anything further to the table. In the corner, the blonde that Cordelia had never met previously was anxiously searching about with her eyes, staring into each person in the room in a way that made Cordelia decidedly unsettled.

"Enough!" Giles cried. "Let Cordelia finish."

"Thank you," Cordelia extolled. "I am well aware of all of your opinions when it comes to Faith. But, I needed to come back to the beginning. For better or worse, Sunnydale is where Faith starts for all of us. No one knows anything about her from before. So, the only help that I could imagine finding for her would be here –" she was cut off.

"Help her?" Buffy puffed incredulously. Murmurs of assent rumbled through the group. The unnamed blonde frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I can't explain until I get that girl's name. Seriously. Meek much?" Cordelia asked with no shame.

"I like her. She's direct," Anya exclaimed, grinning. "I can see why you enjoyed her so much, Xander darling." Xander blushed. Anya didn't understand. All was well.

"M-my name is T-tara," the blonde sputtered out, "I'm W-willow's –"

"Friend!" Willow shouted brightly. The smile Tara had sent towards Cordelia abruptly died. Cordelia was no fool. She could see, though, that Willow, was.

"Oh, all right then. So, anyways, Faith. Her guilt is driving her insane. Not like, psycho killer insane. I mean, sui-suicidal insane," Cordelia choked on the word, allowing her grief out if only for a moment. She collected herself. "She needs to forgive herself."

She was met with steely glares on all fronts, excepting Tara, Anya, and Giles. Tara still looked miserable from Willow's rejection. Anya didn't seem to be paying much attention. Giles held onto the bridge of his nose and sighed. The silence stretched.

"She doesn't deserve it," Willow, strangely, said. Buffy frowned at her, likely wondering whether the girl had read her mind.

"She deserves to die," Xander echoed, "to pay for the deaths she caused."

"The only way she gets my help is if it's into a coffin. Not out of one, not ever again. Don't tell me you were stupid enough to fall for her dimples and games, Cor?" Buffy asked mockingly, holding her hard tone above her old friend.

Cordelia frowned.

"With that, maybe I should just take my leave of you all. Obviously the self-proclaimed heroes of mankind don't have the time to help out an old ally," she snarled. Her face was a mass of harsh lines, something she avoided at all costs. She was serious.

"Wait, Cordelia," Giles coughed, "Please, explain the situation. If you do not wish to hear of it, you may leave." Willow immediately stood and headed back to her dorm. Xander's curiosity held him until Anya gave him a look that took them both out the door. Only Buffy, Giles, and Tara remained to listen.

"I-I've heard so much about h-her, t-this Faith. I w-want to know the st-story," Tara murmured by way of explanation.

Cordelia nodded, and began.

"One day I visited her and she wouldn't talk. She stared at me for half an hour, daring me to belittle her with her eyes. It was one of the first times I came – neither of us trusted the other. She unnerved me. I was curious about her. What had driven her over the edge? Where did she come from? Who was she? I realized I didn't know. So I did, as she told me, what no one had done before. I asked.

"I won't tell you about her life before Sunnydale; it isn't my place. But I can tell you her version of life in Buffytown.

"She came here scared. She'd never been afraid of death, always looking it straight in the eyes and grinning. She'd seen a lot already. But Kakistos was something else. She couldn't reconcile with having abandoned the one authority figure in her life she'd cared for. Losing her Watcher was one of the hardest parts of her young life, and that is a well fought-for position.

"She was excited to meet The Buffy Summers. She believed you could solve all of her problems, Buff. She really did. She thought that you could help her destroy Kakistos and with a little luck, you two could get into the swing of Slaying and kick some major butt. So when she realized that you had a whole team behind you, a whole life to live, it screwed with her a little bit. She was jealous, sure. Mostly, she was lonely. You didn't _need_ her, but she needed you. So all in all, she didn't feel safe. She got stuck with the sour end of the deal.

"For a while, she took it day by day and could just be happy to be alive. But Alan took all her progress from her. She still has nightmares every night. It was an accident, but she'll always blame herself for it. She's scared to let anyone touch her because she thinks her hands can only bring bloodshed.

"Originally, she went to the Mayor as a last-ditch attempt to help out the team. She'd play insider and save the day. But the more time she spent with the bastard, the less she could see going back. He called her beautiful. No one called her beautiful. He was proud of her. He brought her gifts. He took her on picnics. He was the father she'd always wanted. And since you hated her anyways, why couldn't she play the part? So she ran with it. Pushed herself to be exactly what she thought you saw her as: a psycho killer, right?

"Poisoning Angel was a test. She wanted to see if you would take that final step and choose a vampire, a being filled naturally with intent to kill humans, over her. She wanted to know whether you had crossed the line between 'all humans deserve to live' and 'only humans I approve of deserve to live'. To her, the stab in the gut was almost a relief. It told her she was right not to have carried through with her plan to double-agent the Mayor.

"Her coma messed her up, a little. She woke up scared and alone. For the first few days all that she could remember was you stabbing her. So she did what came naturally: sought revenge. Once she found herself in your life, she wanted everything. She wanted the loving boyfriend, so she took him for a ride. She wanted the caring best friend, so she went to Willow and spent the day with her. She wanted the family, so she went to your mother.

"At the church, her self-hatred exploded out of her. In LA, she begged for death at the hands of Angel despite being sent to kill him. This is where her downward spiral began.

"And now, because she can't apologize, can't be forgiven, and can't forgive herself, she is going insane."

Silence followed Cordelia's speech. All parties appeared drawn and tired. While Buffy did not appear convinced that she should help her fellow Slayer, it was clear she had been affected by the insight Cordelia had given into Faith's past decisions.

"This is too much, too soon," Buffy stated abruptly. "I can't help you. Maybe someday, but not yet." She stood, and with a last, troubled glance towards the former high school cheerleader, left the room.

"What does she need?" Giles asked, finally.

"I was hoping that you could help. All I know is that she's tortured. I don't know how to fix it," Cordelia whispered. Her determination was waning. She'd lost all of the Scoobies. Faith wouldn't get help. She would die.

"I-I d-don't w-want to int-trude on y-your problem, but I'm an em-empath. M-maybe I could help?" Tara asked weakly. She retained her humiliation from having her status as Willow's girlfriend denied earlier. That, combined with her discomfort with this imposing stranger, brought her stutter out more than usual.

"She's quite right. This might help us understand what's going on with Faith right now," Giles intoned, glad to be back at what he was good at: research. He'd been left out of Buffy's college life; maybe this could be something to give him usefulness again.


	3. Discussion

A/N: I'm doing my best not to bash anyone. Everyone will be given a chance to show his or her restorative qualities.

What She Needs

Part Three: _Discussion_

"We did the right thing, didn't we? I mean, we're not bad people now, right? We're still good people, we're especially good people for turning our backs on bad people, so we'll be fine – Faith is bad, so we're fine," Willow babbled, pacing furiously in the dorm room she shared with Buffy.

"I don't know, Will," Buffy sighed. "I don't know." She sat on her bed, fingering the comforter and plucking at fuzz that marred Mr. Gordo's otherwise perfect figure.

Willow flapped her hands about anxiously.

"D-did you ever go to see her?" Willow asked, after a moment of hesitation. Buffy shook her head.

"Right. So we don't know, we don't know what Cordelia saw," Willow concluded softly.

"No, we don't, Willow. I can't forgive her, but I don't feel right just leaving her to die, if what Cordy said was true," Buffy stated, shaking her head. "It's too fresh in my mind. She's only been in prison a couple months."

"Uh, Buff?" Willow requested. Buffy waited. "What _did_ Cordelia have to say?" At that, Buffy sighed once more.

"She told us the whole story from what she described as Faith's point of view. It made…a lot of sense. More than I wanted it to. Hating someone is easier when you haven't walked two moons in her moccasins," Buffy replied, her jaw tense.

"Hm." There was nothing more Willow could say, so she headed to bed. "Let's sleep on it." Before Buffy could respond, she flicked off the lights and hopped into bed. She needed processing time.

It occurred to her that she hadn't spoken to Tara yet, to explain herself. She felt anxiety gnawing at her, but she pushed it out of her mind in favor of attempting to get some sleep.

* * *

Faith looked exactly as she had when Cordelia had last seen her. She was emaciated, pale, dull, and everything Cordelia hated to see on her friend. Dawn was just creeping through the bars on Faith's window. They'd all caught a few hours of rest before hitting the road.

"Unlock the door," Cordelia commanded casually, fluttering her fingers in the general direction of the guard while she kept her gaze of Faith. She looked weak in a straightjacket, and Cordelia knew that Faith hated feeling weak. She grimaced slightly.

Behind her, Giles took tall and fought with his nerves. He reminded himself that she couldn't hurt him at the moment, that he was there to help her, not battle her, but his fight or flight instincts held him tense. The buzz of the gate to Faith's cell opening jarred him and he very nearly let out a girly squeak.

Tara, on the contrary, was calm. Seeing a task, she set her mind to it with single-minded determination. If Willow wouldn't acknowledge her as her girlfriend in front of Cordelia, Tara would prove herself worthy of recognition. She mused that perhaps Willow had a crush on Cordelia and didn't want the girl to know she was taken.

Her reflections halted at the scene before her. Cordelia kneeled at Faith's side, holding the Slayer to her and stroking her hair. She, unlike Giles, was not shocked at Cordelia's actions – she had no way of knowing they were out of character. No, Tara was caught by their auras. Cordelia's aura radiated worry and care, to Tara like a melding of dark blues and warm yellows. Faith's aura, on the other hand, was so murky it was almost impossible to decipher. Tara held her head in her hands as she was assailed by regret, self-hatred, shame, anger, fear, love, and an underlying loneliness. She'd met many troubled people in her day, but usually they kept to one or two varieties of misery. Faith held them all in almost equal doses. To Tara, Faith's aura felt like swirling dark purples, greens, blues, and the occasional black or red flash. Each time Cordelia murmured comfort into Faith's ear, her aura fought to send out a slice of the same warm, caring yellow that Cordelia could express so much more easily.

"Tara?" Giles asked, concerned. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and her hands trembled where they clutched her scalp.

"I'm fine," Tara muttered absently, allowing her feet to draw her into the cell. Giles swallowed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and followed her in.

At this point Faith noticed that she had more than one visitor. Upon seeing Giles, she pushed herself to the back of her cell, against the wall, and murmured "no, no, no," in a weak voice. Her husky tones were gone, replaced by a rasp that screamed, "abuse", not "sex".

"I want to help you, Faith," Giles got out, losing his fear. What was to fear from this girl? She was not the Faith he feared. "I want to help you live again."

Faith didn't appear to hear him, but Cordelia still looked at him with a measure of gratitude that he relished, feeling as though it had been years since he'd been of use to anyone.

"Cordelia," Tara stated, "may I come closer to her?" Cordelia crawled gracelessly over to Faith, asking her gently if she'd let Tara come see her.

"What's she gonna do to me? She here to punish me? I'm sorry, Tara! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Faith cried, shaking her head violently.

"I forgive you, Faith. I've forgotten the incident already," Tara murmured as she walked closer to Faith. Cordelia asked Tara with her eyes what on Earth the 'incident' was, but Tara dismissed her with a wave of her hand. Giles was utterly lost, and decided to move back out of the cell, but stay within hearing distance. He didn't want to freak Faith out any more than she already was.

Still Faith kept her eyes clenched closed as she begged for forgiveness. Tara brought herself within a few inches of the girl and brought Faith's head up with a gentle hand. She'd seen something in Faith's scar tissue that she needed to explore.

Faith stilled, keeping her eyes closed while Tara gently traced her facial gashes with her hand. Her desperation stilled her, certain that she must do exactly as Tara wished. She didn't believe the Wicca when she was told she was forgiven. While not anywhere near the worst she'd done, Faith was deeply ashamed of taunting Tara while in Buffy's body.

Tara almost gasped as she discovered what had intrigued her from afar. Each of Faith's scars from her attempted decapitation held an impression of the girl's aura in it. She'd never seen anything like it. A few of the scars she could see on Faith's neck and head didn't share that phenomenon – a vampire bite one of them. Tara didn't know what to make of it.

"Faith?" Tara asked gently.

Faith opened her eyes, her pupils wide from fear. Her gaze flicked from Cordelia, trusting her guardian angel, to Tara, preparing for the worst. She slowly realized that an answer was expected of her.

"T-tara?" Faith replied uncertainly. The irony of Faith developing a stutter around Tara and Tara losing her stutter in her determination to help Faith wasn't lost on anyone.

"I want to know something, and I want an honest answer," Tara uttered slowly. Faith nodded immediately, wide eyed.

"May I see the rest of your body? I need to check if the same phenomenon occurs throughout," Tara requested, offering no explanation. Faith pressed herself further into her wall.

"So that's what she's here for. Shoulda known. That's how you pay people back, right? All I gotta offer is myself, an' that ain't so appealing, least B doesn't think so, says I'm a disgusting slut. Do whatever you want, sugar, ain't nothing I haven't done before," Faith ranted lowly, her body trembling. Tara ignored her, pulling her into a stand.

"Could you get her a blanket, Giles?" Tara called back, "She's already freezing, losing the 'jacket's not going to help with that."

"What the fuck is going on?" Cordelia hissed. She brought Faith into her chest, glaring over her at Tara.

"There's something wrong with her scars, or maybe her aura. I'm not sure. But I need to see if it continues throughout," Tara stated firmly. She was being professional. She was trying to help. She _would_ get this right.

Reluctantly, Cordelia released her charge. Giles returned holding a blanket, handed it to Tara, and muttered absently, "I'll be outside to discuss what we know when you're all done," and escaped.

Cordelia helped undress an unresponsive Faith. She wondered how much they'd have to bribe the guards to forget about this whole encounter.

Once Faith was down to her prison-issue sports bra and panties, Cordelia draped the blanket across her shoulders and pointedly glared at Tara. She wanted this done, whatever it was.

"I'm just going to lightly brush your scars, Faith. It won't hurt. I get a better read through touch. I'm not going to hurt you in any way," Tara spoke softly, humming a lullaby as she gently rolled the tips of her fingers across each scar on Faith's body she found. Traces of Faith's aura could only be found on certain scars – Tara was making a guess, but she thought it was probably something emotional that caused the anomaly. The knife wound on Faith's stomach held the strongest taint but for the scars on Faith's face. However, decent amounts were found on her arm "stripes" as well as on a myriad of scars all over Faith's body. What Tara couldn't explain was why some scars weren't affected. They looked largely like all the others, jagged or straight cut, streaks of mismatched color against Faith's natural skin tone.

Faith couldn't relax, but she was calmer than she'd been. Cordelia's touch reassured her, and Tara didn't seem interested in doing anything other that whatever it was she was doing. Faith didn't concern herself with the details. She was already miles away, reliving memories, good and bad.

"I've never heard of such an occurrence," Giles uttered. He was partly intrigued and partly horrified. Not only was this almost certainly a symptom of some larger spiritual problem, but Giles was also shocked at the sheer number of scars his former Slayer had. Buffy had her fair share of battle wounds, of course, but usually her healing took the marks away almost immediately. The scars that remained certainly had nothing on Faith's; considering that Buffy had been a Slayer far longer, this was a worrying thought.

* * *

"Thank you for offering your help," Cordelia shot out unexpectedly. "You didn't have to, and I understand how difficult this is to take…So thank you. And please keep in touch in case you figure anything else out. I have to get back to Angel, but when it comes to Faith I'm always free. I just can't stay in Sunnydale for any longer. So, if you need anything, please call. I owe you guys, even if we can't –" she paused " – resolve this." Gathering strength, Cordelia put on her bravest smile and went to her car.

"Well, that was abrupt," Giles noted.

"S-she d-does have a j-job," Tara pointed out.

"I hate to ask this, but why has your stutter returned now? I would think you'd be much more nervous with Faith than here," Giles asked.

"I-I w-work w-well when I n-need to," Tara admitted meekly.

"Well, then I'll hit the books," Giles nodded grimly.

"W-would you mind some c-company?" Tara wondered.

"Not at all, my dear," Giles replied, smiling weakly.

* * *

"Tara's not at her dorm room! What do I do? I have to apologize, explain, I know she's mad," Willow said frantically.

"Calm down, Will. I'm sure we'll see her later. Maybe," Buffy paused before voicing this thought, "she's with Giles?" She prepared for more Willow-worry.

"Why would she be with Giles? What would she be doing with Giles? Wait, you don't think she's cheating on me with Giles, right? That's just too scary to think," Willow babbled.

"No, Wills, I think she's with Giles about Faith. They did listen to Cordy after all," Buffy stated.

"Oh."

Neither girl had gotten anything out of sleeping on the turmoil caused by Cordelia's unexpected visit.


	4. To Know

A/N: We continue. All feedback is appreciated. This chapter is short because it took me a while to get my facts together. More as soon as I can get it done.

What She Needs

Part Four: _To Know_

"I hate to say it," Giles sighed, "But consulting Anya might not be a bad idea. She has all sorts of odd knowledge." Tara nodded agreeably. They'd spent the better part of two hours looking up auras and everything to do with them in Giles's private library. Neither had reached a definite conclusion, although possibilities were considered and, one by one, shaken away or written down for further research.

"You're right, and we c-certainly could use a b-break," Tara uttered gently. Grabbing various items of importance, the pair headed for the Magic Box.

"Boss-man!" Anya shouted as Giles entered her domain, "Why are you here? Can I go? Are you going to take my shift?" Giles let her questions hang.

"We were wondering a few things, since you happen to be full of interesting bits of information," He replied shortly. He was frustrated, because as much as he enjoyed being back in the swing of…something, he also enjoyed getting satisfactory results.

"Question away. Although it's quite rude of you not to answer any of mine," Anya pouted. It didn't suit her, but was nonetheless amusing.

In business mode now, Tara found her confidence. "Tell us what you know about auras. I can read them; I understand what they do. But I don't know why they exist, why they don't exist for vampires, and why an aura would attach itself physically to the body of its host on fixed, emotionally important locations." Giles half-smiled at her, impressed.

"Well," Anya began, "Those were statements, but I'll answer them anyways. Auras are complicated. As one might guess, or be told, they're related to the soul. To say they're attached would be too much, though. An aura is the reflection of the state of mind as well as the, I don't know, life essence of the person? It's hard to explain in words, and English really isn't my best language. Anyways, in the case that an aura did what you described, my guess would be that it's a physical representation of something going on in the mind, soul, essence, matter, or whatever of the person. Like, I might, if I found my soul mate, discover that my aura concentrated on the ring finger if we got married. I haven't heard of such a thing but I know that it's possible. If we lost each other, it might concentrate there still but with my misery instead. Understand?"

Tara blinked. None of the books they'd read had given anything like Anya's explanation.

"That's very interesting, Anya," Giles complimented. "A few last questions, I believe, and we'll let you have your peace. What would cause this anomaly?"

Anya sighed. "You know, I could get customers," she cried dramatically. "No matter. I'm here to help. It doesn't cost me, so why not? It could be one of several different causes. A curse could cause emotions to leave their marks on the skin, demon possession could start to push her aura out over time however possible, or if the emotions were strong enough it could happen on its own."

"What, if any, effect does this aura splintering cause on the owner?" Tara asked quietly when Anya finished.

"Nothing. It does nothing, really. I mean, if it's on a scar it'll preserve that scar and everything associated with it. The aura will protect it. If it's on a tattoo, the tattoo will never fade. The effect would mimic that of a preservative, as well as giving an empath easier access to the aura, but still the effects are minimal," Anya declared confidently.

Tara perked up. This could be useful. It was their only lead so far, but it seemed to be fruitful.

"The last two: how could it be reversed? And, h-how d-d-do you know t-this?" Tara pushed out, her stutter dropping back in as her task fell to the wayside of her mind and her nerves returned.

Anya frowned. "If it's possible, I for one have no idea how to reverse it. Secondly, I lived for vengeance. It was very useful to be able to see into the hearts of those who wished for me beyond their exact requests. It helped me become as popular as I was, a time ago," Anya told Tara smugly, and perhaps wistfully.

Giles nodded and guided Tara out the door.

Buffy and Willow stood on the other side.

"We were just looking for you," Buffy exclaimed pleasantly, her smile just on the side of forced. Giles appeared troubled and Tara kept her gaze firmly on the street.

"So, what have you two been up to?" Buffy continued. Giles found his strength. He remembered his anger at Buffy for dropping him in favor of her college life, his joy at finding something useful to do.

"We have been assisting Cordelia in her research into Faith's condition," he replied coolly. At his side, Tara nodded.

"Can I talk to you, Tara? I mean not the kind of talking-to that's going on now, I mean with you looking at me and me explaining myself, preferably in private?" Willow interjected. Tara slowly raised her head.

"After this is done," Tara promised. Her pained expression still showed a hint of steely determination. She'd been taken advantage of for so long that she wanted to have the power for once.

"Giles, tell us what's going on," Buffy demanded impatiently, "I know you're hesitant because it's not really our business, but I'm anxious. I hate not _knowing_." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed.

"I speak of this only to put together the information in my mind," Giles warned weakly. "There's something wrong with Faith's aura and scars. We don't know which is the cause yet of the other – if the experiences that led to her scars drew her aura into them, or if her aura itself has become entangled in her body because she can't control her emotions. Our only certainty is that she needs help." Tara nodded in confirmation.

"What was the catalyst? What brought Cordelia here of all places?" Willow asked curiously. Tara flinched at the sound of Willow's voice, at the question itself.

"F-Faith d-decided she w-would take her-herself out the same way sh-she'd take out if she w-were a demon," Tara began, and Giles took over for her.

"She took her hands to her head and attempted to remove her own head." At his statement, Willow nodded dumbly and Buffy gasped. For some time, the quartet stood silently.

"She really was suicidal," Buffy murmured finally. "I thought Cordelia was kidding, or something, I don't know what I thought really." She brushed her hair back nervously. "I still don't know how to feel about her. I'm scared she'll take back her hope for redemption and fill it with hate instead. I'm not dumb; I know that one of her biggest hurdles is that it's easier to hate me than to fight with me to get my trust back. I'd like to hear how she's doing, but I can't promise I'll help." She nodded ultimately and headed back to her dorm; she did have work to do, after all. Willow remained struck.

"I'll give Cordelia a call," Giles muttered, and left the lovers to sort out their dispute.


	5. A Woman Scorned

A/N: Oh dear.

What She Needs

Part Five: _A Woman Scorned_

"T-tara? Please, let me explain?" Willow anxiously sputtered. Her hands flew about in the air, thrusting her nerves into life. She began to step towards her lover, and then she thought better of it, awkwardly pulling her foot back from the step it wanted to make.

"I thought you understood me, Willow. I thought that you would handle me like fresh-blown glass, with caution and care. I was mistaken. I must have been wrong to h-hope for s-someone to love me," Tara replied, eyes lowered. Her voice, so strong at the beginning of the statement, faded into her usual soft stutter at the end. She didn't notice Willow's eyes as they began to tear; her focus remained evermore on the ant slowly traveling across the sidewalk.

"Tara!" Willow exclaimed, glassy-eyed. "Don't ever think I don't love you. It was instinct, to protect myself from Cordelia's scorn if she ever knew I were gay." Her proclamation fell on dead ears; Tara held her arms around herself as a child would to ward off chill, and she fought not to be moved by Willow's sincerity. Tara did not want to let her anger disappear like it always did. She would not be swayed.

"I c-can't. I can't for-g-give you so qui-quickly. It h-hurts, love." At this, Tara's eyes too filled with tears, and for some time neither girl could speak, as breath would not come easily.

"How can I fix it, Tare? Tell me how and I'll, I don't know, stand outside your window with a jukebox or buy you a thousand flowers or, well, not really tattoo your name on my forehead, because ouch, but you know, I'll do whatever it takes," Willow spewed forth. She drew up her courage and pressed a foot closer to her blonde Wicca, still leaving a good meter stick's breadth between them. Tara forced herself to face her girlfriend, leaving the ant to wander unwatched.

"And st-still you wouldn't t-tell Cor-Cordelia. Y-you're ash-ashamed of me," Tara muttered, defeated. She whimpered; Willow could say nothing that would appease her. She was not ready to face her high school tormenter.

"F-find me wh-when you know wh-who you w-want to be," Tara pushed out in a single breath, turning to leave. It hurt so much to leave Willow; Willow with whom she had finally found love, Willow with whom she had shared her magic, Willow with whom she had spent her happiest moments. But it hurt more that Willow would reject her now.

Desperately, redheaded Willow ran in front of Tara.

"Hold on, hold on. I'll tell her if that's what you want. Anything for you to stay. You can't leave, Tare, not when I've just found in you everything. Give me a chance, Tara. Please." Willow's frown and trembling hand with which she reached up to brush Tara's tears away caught their quarry. Tara couldn't leave now, not now that her love had promised exactly what she had needed to calm her fears and ease her pain.

"Promise me," Tara breathed, before she drew Willow in to claim her. Between anxious, harried kisses, Willow managed to murmur 'yes'. In a matter of minutes, the two powerful witches found themselves back at Tara's dorm room, their dispute nearly forgotten in the haze of stormy makeup sex.

Nearly, but not quite forgotten was the fight. When Willow left to meet up with Buffy in the evening, Tara felt the tension return to her. She was uncertain as to whether Willow would uphold her promise or even if that would be enough to reassure her. In the aftermath of loving Willow, Tara sensed that her mind was clearing. Realizing that there was little she could do, she returned to her studies.

* * *

Cordelia was unsure what to make of Giles's research.

"Look, I don't need to hear it in geek. Just tell me what we can do to help her," was her response to his late call.

"It could be one of two things, really: her guilt could be manifesting itself in her scars, or some influence has caused her scars to tie to her guilt. Either way, she cannot be freed of it. We'd need to know where the scars came from to have a better idea of how to help her," Giles intoned assuredly. He was in his element. He heard Cordelia sigh on the other side of the line.

"Well, that's great," she ground out, her grimace audible in the tension layering her voice, "Faith won't want to talk about that. That's gonna take some time."

"Right," Giles said, rubbing his nose, "I imagine trust isn't something Faith often enjoys, least of all in her current, very vulnerable, position."

"I'll talk to her tomorrow, take pictures, and get her story for every one. But this doesn't go beyond you, Tara, and me, okay? She's got enough on her plate without the Scoobies psychoanalyzing her based on her decidedly spotty childhood and adolescence.

"Of course," Giles affirmed, "However, you may need Tara to come with you to mark which of her scars contains the aural anomaly."

"Damn it," Cordelia growled. "She can come, but only for the pictures. We'll use a Polaroid camera so she can mark the scars immediately. Then she'll have to leave because Faith sure as hell won't talk when she's around."

"I'll call her and ask for her assistance. Good evening, Cordelia," Giles finished primly. The dial tone greeted him.

"Saucy girl," he muttered, and headed back the books with a scotch in hand.

* * *

In the morning, Tara drove to the prison to find Cordelia awaiting her.

"Come on," she stated brusquely, guiding the empathy through security quickly so that they could see Faith.

The Slayer stood by the window. As Tara came closer she could see Faith's jugular standing up on her neck; the brunette was terrified. Yet her body was calm, her expression listless. She spoke when Cordelia entered her cell.

"Wondered when you'd show, Cor. I don't know what Blondie did last time, but it wasn't good. I could feel everything again; every scar she touched came alive and told its story. I was the Illustrated Man and his watcher in one. I know you're only tryin'a help, C, but this scary shit isn't good for me. Damn near ripped the coat offa me when she left. Felt like a five year old on cocaine that day. Today it's a little better, fewer people in my head, you know? Today it's just B and Red, yowling. Usually I've got the Boss in there, Soulboy, little mister miss-stake that started it all (get it? Miss-stake? 'Cuz stakin' him was a mis-take? No?) and the Doc too. Sometimes little Dawnie talks to me, tells me how I let'er down. But today they're quiet," Faith digressed from whatever point she'd been trying to make, eventually trailing off and staring at Tara.

"So, gon'ta mess with ol' Faithie's head today?" the convict asked, head tilted oddly to one side, a loopy grin coming to her.

"No, Faith. We're just going to take some pictures of you, and then I'll leave you with Cordelia," Tara assured her inmate – for surely she possessed Faith now, seeing into her soul as she had. She walked over to Faith confidently and steadily, then helping her out of her straightjacket. They'd brought a blanket with them this time, and so Faith was covered almost as soon as she was uncovered.

"Fai?" Cordelia called softly from her position on Faith's left, gently stoking her hand through the girl's messy, dark, locks.

"Mm?" Faith grumbled back, snuggling into Cordelia's side as Tara took pictures of her and then marked in red where scars tainted by aura could be found.

"You don't need to hurt the way you do. You're atoning; that's enough. Please, Fai, promise me that you'll stop hurting yourself. I can't bear it," Cordelia whispered, lips quivering in an effort to control her emotions.

"S'long as you'll stay an' keep the monsters out from under the bed, 'Delia," Faith promised, half-asleep. At that, Cordelia drew Faith closer to her and kissed her on top of her head.

"Always."

Tara pretended not to hear the girls talking. They wouldn't appreciate an audience. Instead, she continued her work to its finish; almost an hour later she announced that she would leave them in peace. Her only indication that either girl heard her was that Cordelia caught her eye and nodded.

* * *

Some time after Tara left, Cordelia awoke the girl she'd come to care so much for.

"Fai, I'm going to ask you some questions," she prodded as cautiously as she could, "and we'll need to know the truth so we can help you."

"Don' wan' help," Faith growled.

"Shut up, Faith. Whether you want it or not I care about you, and you _will_ be helped," Cordelia roared back. Faith could say nothing to refute that; she had come to accept that Cordelia would always have her back, and she craved the love without strings that Cordelia provided for her.

"I need to know where your scars came from, Faith," Cordelia softly uttered, "All of them." To this Faith could only cry.

Eventually, she spoke.

"I'm gonna skip the ones you know 'bout. My face, that's all me. My arms are mostly all me, 'cept that one ugly fucker on my left shoulder. That's a beer bottle from when I was around ten. Momma's mister wasn't too happy when I walked in on him'n Momma doin' time. Got outta there right quick.

"My back, most all's fighting scars. I don't really have any scars from my time as a Slayer, just the ones on my neck and a couple on my back, chest, and legs. They're all bites or clean gashes. Jagged ones come from messy fighting as a kid. My back's a result of some whippings, a few from gettin' sliced in the back at school. Didn't have too many friends. Ones that were in my crew were all druggies just like me. Started snorting around age 11, I guess. Stole some offa Momma. Anyways, got my back cut a coupla times by rival gangs. The bugger by my ass that looks like a branch is exactly that. Took a fall out of a tree one summer, hit a low branch and stopped me, but at the expense of a lot of skin.

"My goods behind have got their own system of markings. Majority came from a John of Momma's who got off on me instead of her. Gave her twice the blow if he got a ride on me. Dug his nails in an' wailed like a banshee. A few pocks come from shots in the ass, don't even ask.

"Legs are a mix. Got some fighting scars from the street and home. Also got a few Slaying scars mixed in. My left knee's messed up 'cause of a fucker with a mace from when I was a potential. My Watcher didn't think there'd be weapons on the nest we raided. Was dead wrong.

"Stomach and chest are clean 'cept for the gut puncher. You know all 'bout that one. She took my most prized possession, one of the few gifts I'd gotten in my life, and gave it back. Straight in the food processer."

She broke off, turning to bury her head in Cordelia's shoulder.

"Didn't wanna think about those. Didn't wanna," she repeated again and again.

Cordelia hated herself for making Faith return to her traumas. However, she now had what Giles said he needed.

She hoped it was worth the price.


	6. Knowledge

A/N: It's running away from me, this plot, not that I mind particularly.

What She Needs

Part Six: _Knowledge_

Giles received a package the next day with the images, accompanied by Cordelia's handwritten notes on the origins of the scars. He carefully sorted through the information, trying to find a link between the scars and the aura fixation.

For several hours he painstakingly read and reread Cordelia's notes. When he was certain of his findings, he made the call.

"What is it, Giles?" Cordelia spat out. She'd just spilled coffee on herself. She was not pleased. Realizing that he would only call if it had to do with Faith, she let the thought of ruined clothes slip away. "What did you find?"

"Well," he began, "I was looking for a causal link between her scars and the aural attachment. There were obvious differences between the stories behind unaffected scar tissue and that which was affected. We were right in assuming that the scars had to be focus points for her emotions for the aura to come out through them. I believe that this phenomenon happened with no outside influence. I'll consult with Tara to see what we might be able to do to help her. Your notes are invaluable, Cordelia, and I appreciate what it took for you to get them." At this, Cordelia grimaced. There was little that disturbed her more than seeing Faith cry. She did feel some measure of honor at being close enough to Faith for her to reveal herself in such a way, but that satisfaction was nothing to the pain that Cordelia felt reflected in Faith's eyes.

"Call me with anything new," she abruptly announced, and hung up. She needed some time.

The phone ringing yet again broke her moment for reminiscence. Cordelia screeched in anger, drawing not entirely unsurprised looks from Angel and Gunn, who stood nearby. They had, of course, experienced her wrath when bothered.

"What," she growled into the receiver. She hadn't bothered to check the caller I.D.

"H-hello," a meek voice replied. _Willow_, Cordelia thought as she snarled outwardly.

"What reason do you have to disturb me, mouse?" Cordelia rumbled. Already she was plotting ways to kill the redhead.

"I-I jus-just wanted to tell you that T-Tara and I are dating, and nothing you can say will hurt me because I love her and I've grown up since high school. I mean, maybe you have as well, but with the yelling and the anger I assumed you'd still call me names for being g-gay, and so…" Willow's voice increased in speed the whole time she spoke, eventually becoming nearly impossible to understand. Cordelia sighed in exasperation.

"Was that it?" she replied, much more calmly. "It's not much of an announcement. It was obvious, although why I would care about your love life is far beyond me. Now go back to making up. She deserves better than the way you treated her while I was present." Resolutely, she hung up and even turned her phone off so that she would have some peace.

Willow was stunned.

* * *

Buffy pressed into Riley, murmuring words of love. She wasn't sure herself whether she meant them, but she needed a break from misery. She wanted to pretend, for a moment, that nothing but she and her lover existed.

* * *

Willow pressed into Tara, murmuring words of love. She had kept her promise to her love. Now, she wanted to take advantage of the second chance she had been given. Tara let Willow overtake her, removing the terrible images of Faith's pain from her mind.

* * *

Giles could not get Tara to pick up her phone. Hoping for more success elsewhere, he called Anya to see if she had any more information. Making sure to keep his inquiries vague so as not to break Cordelia's (and thus, Faith's) trust, he asked her to access her demon contacts to see if they knew how to use the information they had to Faith's benefit.

She called back within the hour. She'd already guessed that he was asking about Faith, since she had assumed he was helping Cordelia. Not having any particular stake in the matter since Faith was in prison, as she had discovered, she was happy enough to get him whatever he needed.

"There's a magical solution, aura healing. The aura ties are probably making it so that each memory plays again and again in her mind, so if they're severed that will stop, which will help with the sanity. I don't know much about it but there's a book on auras, The Tie That Binds, that will probably help. That's all I can tell you," Anya supplied easily, asking for a day off in return for the information. He had expected nothing less from her.

He found that he didn't own the book, which explained why their research on auras at the start had been so difficult: he didn't own a single book with auras as the main subject discussed. Although he truly hated to resort to using computers, he did manage to hold back his hatred of the 'damnable contraptions' long enough to order the book, and a few others, to be delivered the next business day. Satisfied for the moment, he waited for Tara to return his calls.

* * *

In her cell, Faith rocked back and forth. She'd promised Cordelia she wouldn't hurt herself. This was all that kept her from dashing her head against the poorly cushioned walls of her makeshift psych cell. The everlasting blood on her hands mocked her.

"A little water clears us of this deed," she muttered, "my ass." She was chained to her bed for the night, with padded handcuffs of course. Her legs were free. Feet tapping the mattress, she sang schoolyard songs and talked to herself. Her mind was a swirling mess of images; none were concrete but all tormented her.

She itched to touch her scars. The texture calmed her a bit. Feeling rough, then soft, then rough again in rhythm was soothing.

* * *

Finally, Tara extricated herself from Willow. Exhausted, but having forgotten most all of her woes, she returned to her dorm room. She was greeted with an answering machine that returned her promptly to Earth. She couldn't afford to have her head in the clouds when Faith's life was essentially on the line.

"The book should arrive sometime tomorrow," Giles told her when she called, sounding relieved that she was alive. After all, disappearing, even for just a few hours, in Sunnydale could mean death. "Perhaps you may visit in the afternoon so that we can research?"

"O-of course, M-Mr. Giles," Tara stuttered, her embarrassment at having missed his call, and the reason for doing so, bringing her nerves to the surface.

Once the call ended, Tara threw herself into her schoolwork; she had a class tomorrow with a paper due. However, her mind often wandered to what they might find out about Faith's condition, to Faith's tortured emotions, and to Faith's face, torn apart by her grief.

* * *

In the morning they held the funeral for Jaybird, the girl Faith had killed. Faith attended, as did her old cellmate, Grace. The Rat wanted to check up on Faith. In her own way, she cared about the odd, tiny murderer that had come into her prison. Her new cellmate was weak and ugly. She hadn't bothered to learn the girl's name; she'd be dead within the week.

Jaybird was buried behind the prison church. None of her family came. It turned out that she'd come from a respectable family but had been disowned for the gang running that had taken her to jail. They wanted nothing to do with her. Her gang did come, wearing crosses and stern faces. They burned with need for vengeance, but knowing how Faith had handled killing Jay, they knew that it had already been doled out. Not to mention that there was no way any of them could take Faith in a fight if their leader had been effortlessly taken down.

Faith spent the rest of the day meditating. It was the only way she could contain her anger at herself, the hatred that she held in her own name. Cordelia came to visit in the afternoon, offering comfort that would get her through the rest of the day.


	7. Healing Magic

A/N: This story's taking itself off in some unknown direction. Any and all input appreciated.

What She Needs

Part Seven: _Healing Magic_

Buffy inquired again after Faith's condition. She seemed surprised that there was no cut-and-dry solution. She was used to demon problems and magic, not women with blood on their hands.

"We are going to see if the aural healing will help, of course, but we cannot be certain that it's the scar ties that are causing Faith's emotions to act…the way they're acting now," Giles told her. "We'll be visiting the prison again in a few days, after we've read through the proper magical treatment method a few times."

Buffy left the Magic Box feeling no satisfaction. That night, she patrolled for an extra hour. She wasn't sure what to think about Faith, but she'd be damned if she'd let any demons profit from her distraction.

* * *

Cordelia visited Faith every day. Angel showed his support of Faith by paying for the bribes to the guards. Faith showed her thanks by making use of the time she had with Cordelia.

"They're coming back, Cor. The voices left for a while but they're coming back full force. What'd that witch do to me?" Faith confided. Cordelia had no answers to give. She held Faith tighter.

"What about that Gunn boy, Dee? You like him?" Faith asked later. Ever interested in Cordelia's happiness, she ignored her turmoil for a moment.

"He's a sweetheart and even though he doesn't know you, he wants you to get better so I won't mope and I finally get some beauty rest," Cordelia replied with a hint of a smile.

"Get some rest then, Queenie. Don't come back until you've been on a date at least," Faith commanded, barely audible from her place in Cordelia's arms. Cordelia sighed, kissed Faith on the top of her head, and let the girl sleep.

* * *

Cordelia was relieved to hear that they had some hope of helping Faith out of her self-destruction. She told them to read faster. Giles didn't argue.

Somehow, Tara managed to keep up with her schoolwork as well as spend most of her time researching with Giles. It might have had something to do with Willow's help. While Willow would not directly assist in the book-reading parties held at Giles's apartment, she made sure that her girlfriend got all of her assignments and helped Tara get her work finished. This went a long way in earning Tara's forgiveness.

It irked Willow a little that Tara was getting more involved with Faith than she'd ever gotten at the Scoobies' meetings. Until now, Willow had no concept of how determined her girlfriend could be in the pursuit of a solution. However, Willow kept her irritation to herself. The one time she mentioned it to Buffy, Buffy told her to be proud instead of annoyed. Willow felt that Tara's passion was misdirected.

Tara could think of no cause more important.

* * *

"Why is she in prison if her guilt is more punishment than any establishment could give her?" Tara asked Cordelia, genuinely curious.

"Because that's what Buffy wanted," came Cordelia reply. "Faith would do anything that Buffy asked, to earn her forgiveness. Sadly, Miss High-and-Mighty promised her death if she ever tried. That's part of what brought her to the state she's in today."

Giles frowned. "There are so many things I wish we could change," he sighed, "let's go in."

Cordelia had gone on a date at Faith's behest. It hadn't been a disaster, but it hadn't enticed her to a second either. She'd grumbled about dry patches on her way to the prison.

Faith forced Cordelia to talk about her encounter in excruciating detail before she would allow Tara to treat her, so to speak. After chuckling over the handsome barista's unimpressive attempts to woo the Queen herself, Faith turned seriously to Tara.

"'Delia says you're here to help, and I trust her. So tell me how this is gonna work," Faith murmured, holding eye contact with Tara for the first time since she'd started coming to the prison. "I don't even know what's wrong with me." Tara was wracked with nerves. Reading couldn't tell you everything about how to perform a spell, and seeing Faith's solemn, dark eyes wasn't helping her stay confident.

"W-we n-not-ticed, or r-really I n-noticed that your au-aura got at-at-attached to your more em-emotional scars. S-so t-that's p-part of why you, you c-can't l-let go of your me-memories. I-I'm g-going to t-try to l-lift your au-aura from your sc-scars and p-put it b-back where it be-belongs. H-ho-hopefully that will h-help you get b-better and stop y-you fr-from h-h-hurting yourself," Tara forced out. She hardly dared to blink through the entire stilted speech, finding Faith's stare impossible to break. Speaking to the woman she was supposed to be healing when she wasn't sure of herself destroyed the even tone that she could usually hold while working on a job. She wasn't able to stay cool when faced with the reality that she might be holding the key to Faith's life or eventual self-destruction.

Faith listened patiently as Tara stuttered through her explanation. At the end she nodded her acquiescence and quietly asked that Giles and Cordelia return home.

"I don't want anyone more than has to be here," she muttered. Cordelia frowned.

"Pride cometh before the fall, honey," Cordelia threw her way.

"Get some rest, Queenie. It's time you took care of yourself," Faith shot back.

Faith and Tara stood alone. Tara struggled to keep herself calm, to remember her readings.

"I-I'm going to h-have to t-touch your sc-sc-scars to p-perform the ri-ritual," Tara whispered, chewing on her lip self-consciously, "I'm n-not s-sure wh-what will happen to you on-once I st-start. B-but this sh-should h-help." Faith nodded once more and turned so that Tara could access the zipper to her straightjacket.

Praying to the Goddess that she could do this, Tara set to work. She started small, with the nicks and scratches marring Faith's back. Her fingers gently traced the scars as she murmured the incantation she'd memorized. Faith stood stoic for the first three, but once Tara brushed the long gouge coming from Faith's gang fight, she whimpered in pain and clutched her head.

Tara watched Faith's aura swirl angrily, dangerously. She breathed, hoping to calm herself down, and continued. Faith relived the moments in which she received the marks she kept to this day not as she usually did, just letting the images fly through her head, but in real time, as though she'd traveled into the past. Tara mentally apologized; she saw Faith's hands clench and unclench, saw Faith cry out incrementally and bite her lip.

The incantation was working, clearly. Faith's aura already appeared just a little bit more whole. After working through the upper half of Faith's back, mostly the victim of childhood abuse, she decided that was enough for the day. Though she hadn't yet reached any of the areas of highest concentration of aural disjunction, she knew that Faith needed time to lick her wounds.

"We'll continue tomorrow, Faith," Tara whispered into Faith's ear, feeling that speaking loudly would be impolite. Faith was already pained enough – she didn't need broken ears as well. Besides, Tara hated to raise her voice and she knew that Faith could hear her.

Now that she was more confident that she was helping Faith, she was able to pound her stutter into submission.

Tara helped Faith back into her straightjacket slowly. She wasn't sure why, but she worried that Faith's back might be tender after their session. Faith's flinch confirmed her suspicions. Turning to leave, Tara was caught by Faith's voice, so rarely used in front of anyone but Cordelia.

"I still don't know what you're doing to me, witch, but I want to, to thank you. I haven't thought so clear as I have since you've been visiting. Like you're this calm pool walking into the room, settling the tsunami I have going on for a bit," Faith rasped lowly, head turned from Tara. When it became obvious that Faith was done speaking, Tara turned again to leave.

"My pleasure," she threw over her shoulder, distracted.

* * *

Cordelia and Giles were waiting outside of the prison for Tara to come out.

"So?" Cordelia prompted impatiently, her furrowed brow betraying her worry. Giles rested his hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"I th-think it's w-working. T-time will t-tell," Tara replied, eyes grounded. "Sh-she said sh-she f-felt l-like she c-could think more cl-clearly." Cordelia nodded approvingly, then sighed.

"I'm glad you're here to help," she uttered slowly, nodding to Tara and catching Giles's eye. "When she gets better, we'll throw you a great big party, with magic sign cake and all sorts of knick-knacks." Her hopeful smile disarmed the Sunnydale pair immediately.

"I'm sure we'd both enjoy that immensely. Same time tomorrow, then?" Giles requested. Cordelia nodded a third time and made her exit.

When Giles patted Tara on the back, she felt more accomplished than she'd ever been before in her life.


	8. Tension

A/N: I'm trying to keep the intensity level up. Lemme know what you think.

What She Needs

Part Eight: _Tension_

Willow came to Tara's dorm room to find that her girlfriend was taking notes on the aural recovery spell – again. She seethed and saw, as Faith had dubbed her, 'Red'.

"Still working on Faith's mental health?" she asked, keeping her tone light but a sneer marred her pretty face.

Tara didn't look up from the books spread across her bed; she didn't catch Willow's tone.

"Yes. It's like for the first time I can really help someone. That's my dream, you know. To help," Tara whispered, smiling gently until a phrase caught her eye and her brow furrowed in concentration.

Willow held back a growl. Now that she had finally found something of her own, someone she wanted to possess, it was escaping her – and for the welfare of Faith, psycho slayer, holder of "the funnest coma ever"?

"I love your heart, Tare," Willow began lowly, "but it concerns me that you're directing it towards Faith." At this, Tara looked up. Noting Willow's dark expression, Tara's lip quivered in worry. She held her ground, though. She wouldn't give up the most rewarding work she'd ever undertaken – nor would she give up on Faith.

"Why is Faith unworthy?" Tara asked gently. Her hands absently stroked the pages of her books, taking in the pleasant texture of paper and leather binding to soothe her.

"She tried to kill me!" Willow exclaimed, "How could you help her? That's like killing me, in an indirect kind of way with no real ill will, but you understand? I hate her and you're treating her like a wounded bird, with all your beautiful care and affection and I hate it!" Her words shot out as air from a balloon.

Tara stood amazed.

"I-I didn't know that was h-how you f-felt about her. I be-believe that everyone deserves a chance to be h-happy. E-even Faith. May-maybe especially F-faith," Tara uttered with an ounce of fear. She willed herself to have the strength to stand up to her lover.

"How could you not know? It's not like I was at the head of the Faith parade when Cordelia came through. In fact, I held the baton at the anti-Faith parade, I was president of the good-bye Faith club," Willow responded furiously. Tara wavered under her fierce gaze, then reminded herself of her promise not to be taken advantage of again.

"I-I w-want t-to h-help," Tara got out with some difficulty, "Y-you'll j-just h-h-have to acc-ccept that." While her eyes held the floor, Tara's stance showed her determination.

Willow felt her rage rise, but her fear of losing Tara returned. She slumped.

"Can we just have an us night? I don't want to fight, because fighting with you is even less fun that getting poked really hard in the guts with a stick," Willow requested calmly, hoping that she could get Tara away from Faith some other time.

Glad to have the issue dropped, Tara smiled.

"Of course, love," she replied. And so the lovers reunited, magic books forgotten for the moment.

* * *

Alone in the dorm room that Willow would not share that night, Buffy scowled. She was caught between two conflicting memories: the horror of stabbing Faith, watching the girl smile at what she assumed would be her death; and the betrayal at Faith's hands, driving Buffy to hitherto unknown levels of anger.

She called Giles.

"Tell me what she's like, Giles," she asked woefully. "Should I hate her or help her? I'm so confused."

Giles cleaned his glasses.

"She's gone off the deep end, although I think Tara's helping with that. All I can be sure of is that she wants to make amends. Cordelia may have mentioned that your rejection of her apology brought her low," Giles answered truthfully. Feeling as though he had taken advantage of Faith's trust in him, he continued, "But really, I shouldn't tell you anything. If you wish to see for yourself, you may come tomorrow, although I have no idea what Faith's reaction to your presence would be. Upon seeing me, she begged for forgiveness as far from me as possible, and I have nothing to do with her aural anomalies. Given the…permanent nature of your relationship with her on her body, she may respond even more intensely."

Buffy considered his words.

"I'll think about it," she said, "I worry about her, you know. We were close for a short while. But I don't think I could take it if she turned again, and I'm not ready to take her life."

"She wouldn't need you to," Giles returned slowly, "Because either she or Cordelia would get there first. Trust me on this, Buffy. If we have anything to worry about with Faith, it's not the safety of anyone else. It's her well-being that's in jeopardy here." Buffy's breathing echoed for some time after he stopped speaking.

"I need some time," Buffy eventually intoned, "But I'll take what you've told me into consideration. This is a lot. Thank you for your help, Giles."

Rupert Giles positively beamed.

"That's what I'm here for, Buffy," he announced, "to help the Slayer."

* * *

In the morning, Tara left Willow sleeping to go to the prison.

Her note read,

_Love,_

_Duty calls._

_I'll be back as soon as I can. We could lunch together?_

_Your Tara_

And off she went.

* * *

Faith seemed worse today; her head hung sadly and she couldn't possibly be considered standing. Leaning, perhaps, was a better word, but on air. Tara wasn't sure what to make of the development. Faith being more subdued could be positive; Faith being more depressed would be negative.

"Faith?" Tara prompted slowly as she entered the cell, Cordelia nodding to her on her way back out. Faith responded only by turning her body in Tara's direction; her posture remained the same.

"H-how d-does your he-head feel?" Tara asked carefully. Hearing Tara's question, Faith lifted her head to look her in the eye.

"Feels like every second I'm reliving my memories in 3D, surround sound, smell factory, everything. Shitty popcorn, too. I can taste the blood. Couldn't ya fill me with sugar an' spice an' everything nice instead?" Faith croaked. Her eyes were hollowed out and her lips were torn from biting. Tara flinched.

"I-I don't kn-know how-how to s-stop that fr-from happening. M-maybe s-some tea and m-meditation would h-help?" Tara replied, feeling guilty. Was her work making Faith worse? Faith held back the urge to scoff. She could tell Tara was a sweet girl, and she was immensely grateful that the blonde had enough care for her fellow man to help her out despite how she'd treated Tara when they'd first met. Tara had calming eyes like rainclouds. She'd always watched stormclouds pass as a kid.

Faith made a noncommittal grumbling noise.

"Let's get cracking on bringing back the past," she forced out, ripping at her already torn lip with her teeth. Tara found herself reaching to pull Faith's lip out of the reach of her teeth. The action was not sexual, or romantic, or even attractive, but Faith had never experienced unguarded attention of that nature. Her wide eyes held Tara's for a long moment.

"Calm down, Faith," Tara murmured, still holding Faith's scarred jaw in hand. "We'll work slower this time. Tell me what you're seeing. I promise it will help, and I'm the best at keeping secrets." She smiled almost sadly. "Whom would I tell them to?"

Faith struggled with herself. Her jaw and shoulders tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed. Her eyes drifted shut, shot open again, and drifted back.

"Maybe next time," she muttered with her cracked voice. "Thank you for the offer," she forced out, straining with the effort to be polite to the girl that she held so much respect for. Who else could be strong enough to survive the hurt that Faith could see she had survived and still want to help others? When Tara looked at Faith's scars, Faith knew that Tara could see where they came from. Only fellows in the sad club of the abused could so easily identify the sources of those scars. It amazed Faith that Tara had become such a wonderful soul. She idly wondered if Willow knew what a gem she'd found.

Tara continued to explore Faith's back. When done restoring the scars surrounding Faith's gang life, she decided to finish with the large, irregular mark on Faith's shoulder. Faith was whimpering in pain by this point, and Tara had frequently stopped to give Faith water or just to give her a rest. Going slowly seemed to help with the pain a bit.

As Tara reached up to touch the gouge, Faith twitched violently and let loose a primal scream. Escaping Tara's grasp, she shot to the corner of the room and rocked back and forth, still yowling. Tara rushed after her, realizing immediately that that particular scar would need a day all on its own to work through.

Faith wasn't crying. Her eyes were wide and blank, caught as she was in the dreamscape of her past. Tara worriedly ran her hand through her hair; she had no idea what to do. She damned herself for pushing Faith too far.

Carefully, hoping that her instinct was right, Tara reached out to slowly stroke the side of Faith's calf. She didn't get too close, assuming correctly that in her current state Faith was akin to a wild animal, but she did what she could to provide comfort. Her quiet, dulcet voice cut through Faith's mind better than any screams could; after all, screams wouldn't take her out of her memories but further in. Sweet words of comfort awoke her quickly to the real world, panting and sweating. She scratched at her scars for a moment, but upon seeing Tara's distress thought better of it.

"I'm sorry," Tara whispered. Faith wanted nothing more than to assure her that she needn't be sad. No one but Cordelia had showed such concern for her in the past. Not even Joyce Summers, her earliest experience of the feeling of family, could compare.

"It's okay," Faith coughed, choking on her tired voice. She let a bit of her trademark smirk through. "I'm five by five. Wouldn't mind having nightmares all'a time if I got woken that way." Uncomfortably, Faith again rubbed at her stripes. Tara frowned, and she stopped.

"Promise you're okay?" Tara asked fearfully, checking Faith over as if her distress would have physical consequences – not so strange an idea considering the basis of her work with Faith.

Faith smiled genuinely now.

"Promise," she voiced gently, "Now get yourself home to your girl and make her treat you to a nice meal." It wasn't lost on Tara how quickly Faith had elected to favor her with patterns of speech similar to those she shared with Cordelia. How did she gain Faith's trust? She mused.

* * *

Dawn Summers was not happy. Riley was over at the house with Buffy, necking in the blonde's room.

Dawn didn't like Riley. He was too big, too formal, and too…Buffy's boyfriend. He was unacceptable. So, she resorted to complaining to her mother that Buffy should neck in her own room – over at the college, where she belonged.

"Be nice, Dawn," Mama Summers replied with a smile.

Dawn scowled and stormed off.

Later, when Riley left (clothes suspiciously askew, questionable marks on his neck), Buffy came to talk to Dawn.

"Dawn," she began hesitantly, "there's something you should know."

"If it's the birds and the bees, it's too late," Dawn smartly replied. Buffy sighed.

"No," she continued, "It's about Faith."

Dawn fell silent. She'd thought of Faith as a cool sister, once, one who didn't mind hanging out with her and kept her safe at the same time. It had hurt when Buffy turned on Faith. In Dawn's eyes, Faith's betrayal was on Buffy's hands, not that Buffy had ever really told her the whole story.

"What happened?" she asked, exasperated. She expected her sister to rant about her, or complain that she'd broken out of jail.

"Faith tried to kill herself," was what Dawn heard.

Dawn shut down.

For a minute, she stood silent, hands shaking and deep, uneven breaths wracking her small frame before she burst.

"This is all your fault!" she screamed, "Faith never would have left if you hadn't left her! All she wanted was a family, you know that." She began to sob. "You know that.

"I loved her like a sister, you know. I wanted her to stay with us, but she was so stubborn and you didn't really want her around. She never wanted your life, Buffy. She wanted a taste of the kind of support you had. I loved her, and she destroyed herself."

Dawn fell, shaking. Buffy could say nothing in response to her sister's cries. The words hit home hard. All of her rationalizations didn't seem strong enough now, not nearly strong enough to counter what she should have done in the past and what she needed to do now.

"How?" Dawn eventually struggled to say.

"She tried, she tried to take her head off. Like a demon, she said," Buffy replied, now choking on her own emotions. The image of Faith's self-destruction burned in her mind even as she'd never seen the results.

For a long time, the sisters clutched each other in pain.


	9. Disjunction

A/N: Kind of a transition. Tara and Faith will have another session next time, this chapter didn't seem to allow for it.

What She Needs

Part nine: _Disjunction_

Tara and Willow ate together quietly, on opposite sides of a booth at the local coffee shop. Tara was preoccupied – her morning with Faith had left her with many questions, not to mention that she wanted to plan their next session so as to avoid causing Faith undue pain.

Willow watched Tara intently. _I can already feel her distance; this is just like with Buffy when Faith first showed up. God, I hate her! She steals everything I love!_ Willow growled internally, stabbing at her delicately cut sandwich with her fork. Her fear of losing Tara, sparked by their fight after Tara met Cordelia, had planted a seed of doubt in her mind. She saw the possibility of her lover leaving her everywhere. It never occurred to her that her suspicions were more destructive than any actual events. Tara was loyal to a fault. The tension Willow let off was making her uncomfortable when she needn't be.

Willow couldn't trust Tara, not for any reason other than that she felt that everyone she grew attached to left her.

"Willow?" Tara gently prodded, drawing Willow out of the darkest recesses of her mind. She realized that she hadn't taken a bite or spoken a word in some time. She took Tara's hand.

"Sorry, I was off in some other realm," Willow replied, smiling. _She cares about me, she cares about me, she cares about me,_ she chanted silently. Try as she might, her insecurities were taking over.

"It's alright," Tara murmured, interlacing her fingers with Willow's. She held Willow's gaze for a moment longer before dropping Willow's hand and finishing her sandwich.

Willow felt an invisible rejection. She ate, paid, and left without saying anything more to Tara. The blonde was mystified and more than a little worried. Surely Willow would only act in such a way if something was terribly wrong. Maybe after their fight this morning, Willow didn't want Tara anymore. Tara, too, was scared.

She headed back to her dorm room, clutching at herself for comfort.

Both girls were unsatisfied.

* * *

By this time, Buffy had finished comforting her sister. On her way out of the house, she stopped to give her mother some of the affection that had been recently missing in their relationship.

Dawn called Cordelia.

"I want to see her," she demanded, blue eyes flashing. She paced restlessly, never stopping to introduce herself.

"Not yet," Cordelia answered carefully, bereft of her usual bitchy tone. "She's not ready. But soon, I promise. We'll get her well enough to see you and you'll be able to help. She adores you, you know."

"I know," Dawn choked out. She was nearly crying again.

"Buffy told you?" Cordelia asked. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to keep her facts straight when it came to Faith. On a pad near her desk, she made a note to ask Tara her opinion on how soon Faith could see Dawn.

Dawn murmured affirmatively.

"I'll call you when I know," Cordelia stated with assurance; she hung up the phone shortly thereafter.

In her office, Cordelia told Angel that he had a new job; she'd just received an ugly vision of a chanting group of demons, never a good sign. He, in return, asked for news of Faith. Once apprised of the situation, he left her alone so he could plan with his warriors.

* * *

Faith sat in her cell, tranquil. She knew nothing of meditation, nor of Tai Chi or yoga. So, instead she calmed herself with repetition and concentration. She carefully combed her memories of Tara's treatment to find the exact words of the recitation that Tara murmured constantly as she worked on Faith's scars. Despite the pain of the treatment itself, she found that she could reflect on it calmly, and trying to figure out what Tara had been saying so softly both worked her head and distracted her so that she could escape her demons.

A passing guard suddenly stopped. He couldn't remember a single time he'd seen the girl previously when she hadn't been moving, shifting somehow, muttering to herself, or otherwise in the midst of a violent tremor.

* * *

Giles studied the notes that Tara had handed him after her visit to Faith. They had resolved that this would be how they would keep one another abreast of the research and healing situations; this way, when they had time to meet they wouldn't have to waste any of it catching each other up.

He daintily sipped at his scotch, hoping it would soothe his nerves. To his left, his index finger circled the top of his glass. To his right, his hand held Tara's neatly spattered notes aloft. Her handwriting was impeccable, but there was no organization to the account; she'd written what she'd thought of as soon as the encounter ended, attempting to get the most perfect representation possible.

A frown covered the knowledgeable man's brow. He simply couldn't believe the speed with which Faith seemed to be recovering. He resolved to ask her how she'd so easily gotten Faith's trust: he'd never seen anyone succeed. Cordelia he knew was close to Faith, but he had no idea how that had come about. To find that Tara quickly connected with Faith was a shock. After all, hadn't Faith mocked Tara cruelly the first time they'd met, and weren't they too different to befriend one another?

He couldn't know about the similar pasts they shared. Their mutual understanding let them skip past the fear of rejection for their tainted histories. Giles had his share of colored memories, but those were mostly fond, and so his world was vastly different from that of Tara and Faith. His confusion stemmed from the fact that he knew so little about either girl when it came down to it.

If he had known that Tara's protectiveness would shield Faith and foster Faith's trust, leading them both to closeness odd for strangers but not so great that it defied reason, he wouldn't have been shocked. However, there was no way he could have known that his Wicca and Slayer would fit together instinctively.

Where Faith reacted to her pain by striking first, as porcupines do when frightened, Tara hid. Both had to feel that they were safe and in familiar territory to let down their guards. Yet Tara could not stop herself from caring for other people and Faith rarely if ever allowed herself to do so.

Giles couldn't help but wish Tara had been around earlier; if she'd caught Faith before she'd fallen, this misery could have been avoided.

* * *

Tara saw her girlfriend only briefly that night. They shared a short smile and embrace at the campus bar before Tara left to work at home. She invited Willow back, but the redhead declined uncomfortably, making a weak excuse that brought Tara further pain.

Willow needed to talk to Buffy. She needed her best friend to counsel her. She couldn't be around Tara, she was liable to blow up at her about Faith and she didn't want that.

She convinced Buffy to stay in for the night, that her time with Riley had been enough for the day and that she needed Buffy.

* * *

"Will, what's wrong?" Buffy inquired as soon as they stepped into the dorm.

"I can't help being angry, Buffy. I'm angry all the time now at Faith and I can't control it. I feel like she's stealing Tara the same way she stole you and even Xander. I can't convince Tara to stop helping Faith, and now she's spending so much time helping the bitch 'get better'," Willow fumed, stomping up the stairs to their room.

"I don't want to lose her," Willow admitted, voice hoarse. Buffy rubbed her back consolingly, letting her into the comfortable space they'd made for themselves at the college.

"You won't, Wills," Buffy promised, "But you can't discourage her from helping Faith. She's got too big a heart to let Faith go untended, and she's the only one who can do what she needs to do." Buffy didn't know it, but this was exactly what she shouldn't have said.

"My Tara is Faith's only hope? Not to mention how they're spending so much time together. God, I can't stand the thought! I wish she'd just let Faith self-destruct. We'd get a new Slayer…" Willow trailed off then, noticing how callous she sounded. "Why am I so angry? I don't understand. I'm usually a pretty nice person, but when it comes to Faith it's like a switch is flipped and poof! There's no such thing as friendly or forgiving or Goddess forbid, rational."

Buffy shrugged, staring at her old friend.

"I don't know what's happening, Willow. I really don't know," She said gently, taking Willow's hand for a moment. Just as quickly, she let go and got ready for bed.

She wanted to wake up in a new world. It didn't feel right to see her friend so murderous.


	10. Cleanse

A/N: It physically pained me to write this one.

What She Needs

Part Ten: _Cleanse_

Cordelia met with Tara and Giles in the early morning. When asked, Tara confessed that she had no idea when Faith would be ready to see Dawn, but promised to bring it up to her 'patient' later.

"Is that wise?" Giles questioned.

"P-perhaps not," Tara stammered, "B-but she de-deserves to know that D-dawn's thinking of her." Cordelia nodded.

"On the subject of the pain Faith seems to go through during the spell process," Giles began suddenly, "I have an idea. If you can get her aura as calm as possible before you begin, it'll be easier on her."

Cordelia smiled amiably. She felt honored to have Giles helping her, not to mention grateful that Tara was willing to work with the admittedly difficult girl that'd she come to love in her own way.

"I-I'll see what I c-can do," Tara replied slowly, flipping through her notes nervously. She still felt guilty about the last session's emotional conclusion.

"I'll wait here for you. Unless I get called in, we'll talk after you finish up," Cordelia commanded. It seemed she hadn't entirely lost her regal posturing.

"I must take over for Anya's shift today…" Giles muttered, and headed over to his car. His preoccupation was obvious; the reason for it was not. Cordelia watched him go curiously. She'd always loved a good drama.

* * *

When Tara arrived at Faith's cell, she was surprised to see the Slayer already waiting.

"I could hear you coming," Faith murmured, by way of explanation, "and I don't have much else to wait for in here," she finished, shamefaced. Tara smiled at her, hoping to make Faith feel better about being a prisoner but knowing she could do nothing about it.

She knew not what to say.

Faith took the decision out of her hands.

"The one you touched last time," Faith breathed, "I didn't want to think about that one. I never want to think about that one." Her eyes were shut, and Tara didn't dare to move for fear that it would end Faith's willingness to talk.

"My momma was a whore," Faith supplied casually, "had to pay for blow somehow, ya know. So anyways, I'm a kid. I walk into momma's room knowing what's going on, but I can't find any blankets and she always kept some stashed in her closet. I was hoping she'd ignore me. I just wanted to get in and out. Boston winters are cold, but we never had heat so I wanted a blanket. Fuck, I just wanted a blanket." Her breathing became labored. She wasn't yet crying, but she was close. "I got my wish. Momma didn't even notice she was so drunk. But Johnny-boy, he got pissed. I was just about to the closet when he picked up the bottle. He was still in her, grunting all low-like, and he roared at me to get out and hurled it at me. I was running out the door but it still caught me and got lodged for a bit. I had to pull it out myself in the bathroom. The walls were so fucking thin that I could hear him coming while I was whimpering, trying to get shards of glass out of me."

After her speech, Faith fell to her knees, exhausted. Tara was beside her immediately, holding her gaze and attempting to send care that way since she had no idea whether touching Faith right then would be good or incredibly bad.

With impossible slowness, Tara slid her arm around Faith to support her. Neither girl relaxed, but Tara felt the change in Faith's aura. The sickeningly sweet taste of hope tinged her spirit, coloring it a flickering orange in Tara's mind's eye.

Gradually Faith calmed. Her breathing slowed, her eyes fell shut, and she slumped into Tara. Realizing that Faith had fallen asleep, Tara couldn't decide what to do. In the end, she laid Faith's head in her lap and let herself cry. She couldn't erase the image of Faith, bleeding, crying, and vulnerable in her own home at the hands of a stranger. Anger warred with sympathy. Tara rarely condemned anyone, let alone strangers, yet she couldn't help but despise this unknown man and Faith's mother.

Faith awoke within minutes. With a sudden jerk, she sat up. Rubbing her eyes, she let loose a primal growl that rumbled out of her chest and filled Tara with irrational fear. Her instincts told her to _run_.

When Faith turned and saw her sitting there, Tara couldn't keep her eyes from widening or her breath from shortening. From the signals Faith was sending, Tara was almost certain that she wouldn't get to her treatment session today. In fact, she feared for her life when she caught the savage glare of Faith's dark eyes.

Faith didn't recognize her. She saw her mother in place of Tara, as she often came to mock Faith in her distress. '_Still crying over those lil' bumps, Fai?' _she'd taunt, _'aren't you old enough yet to get over ya'self? Good-fer-naught whiner, that's what'ch'are.'_

Beside herself, Faith tackled Tara bodily to the ground, still heckling.

"Pl-please," Tara whispered, "Pl-please F-faith!"

Faith's hair obscured both girls' vision. Tara whimpered in horror. She didn't blame Faith for what was happening; it just wasn't in her. She blamed herself for bringing back the past too soon. Eyes closed, she continued to plead with the beast above her.

Hearing Tara's voice cut into Faith's confused thoughts. _This doesn't fit_. Tearing her arms out of her straightjacket, she held her head in her hands. Her vision flickered in and out, showing her Boston apartment and her prison cell in tandem.

She screamed. She tore at her temples, somehow hoping her aching pain would stop if she hurt it back.

Warm hands stopped her nails after she drew blood. Faith opened her eyes again, this time seeing only her cell, and Tara in it.

"Faith," Tara breathed in relief, watching Faith gain understanding of where she was.

Exhausted from her breakdown, Faith slid back to the wall and rested. Tara knelt before her, checking over the cuts she'd inflicted on herself from tearing out of her straightjacket and from ripping at her temples.

"Don't bother," Faith protested weakly.

Eventually, Faith forced herself to say, "I'm sorry, Tara. I'm sorry for scaring you. I probably would have hurt you if you hadn't pulled me out of it." Disgusted at herself, Faith knocked her head back against the padded cell wall as hard as she could, dazing her momentarily.

"Stop," Tara replied firmly, "That wasn't your fault. Now shut up and stop hurting yourself. I'll tell Cordelia on you, you know I will." This drew a weak grin out of the Slayer.

"Time for you to do witch-type stuff?" Faith asked. Her hands instinctively clutched at the scars on her arms, drawing Tara's attention to them. Faith hated to feel eyes on her; she grimaced.

"Y-yes. I g-guess, unless you don't th-think that w-we should do it t-today. I could come back to-tomorrow," Tara whispered, flushed. Faith shook her head in response.

Both girls watched the floor, unwilling to start the certainly painful process.


	11. Into the Outside

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long. Life got in the way of everything. This chapter's main purpose was to get me back into the story. Hopefully I've still got some grasp on what's going on. Review, comment, do it. Tell me how to improve my writing so as to better please my meager but appreciated readership.

What She Needs

Chapter 11: _Into the Outside_

Tara gently pulled on Faith's aura from where it was stuck in her mangled shoulder, murmuring the incantation as she went. She was in a Wiccan trance, but maintained an eye on Faith at all times. The inmate had her fists clenched and her jaw tightened but seemed otherwise in relatively good shape.

Slowly, Tara rose from her crouched position behind the sitting Faith. She could taste a change in Faith's aura. More slivers of ever-tender hope were present each time she came to see the girl, but they were hard to find. Tara nearly cried out when the wave of anger and fear crashed into her mind. Bitter bile rose in her throat. She thought this must be how Faith feels all the time. She quietly crept out of the cell, leaving Faith sitting there in her rage. Neither was in the mood to speak.

Tara figured that today wasn't the day to tell Faith that Dawn had asked after her. Maybe next time Faith would be in a position to hear the news. Tara wasn't sure whether Faith would be happy to hear from Dawn or horrified that Dawn knew what she'd done to herself.

* * *

Giles opened his mailbox with no great enthusiasm. Bills were not very intriguing. He'd recently sent out inquiries to the Watcher's Council as to Faith's file, but hadn't expected so quick a return. He suspected that they'd gotten news of her attempt and this was their grand 'show of compassion' in helping rehabilitate the woman.

The file only confirmed what Faith had told them about her early life; she'd lived in a slum in Boston with her drug addict mother and various dealers until her mother passed, and then set off on her own with the help of miscreants of every possible kind. Only gang contacts and charisma had kept her out of jail in her teen years. Once called, she'd lived with her Watcher for almost a year before Kakistos had systematically hunted them down to rape them and kill them. He'd succeeded in the Watcher's case. No one knew what had happened to Faith, only that she'd escaped and left Kakistos with one less eye than he'd come with.

It had taken Faith months to cross the country to get to Sunnydale. Different tabs the Council had kept on her showed her single-minded determination to find Buffy. With no money and no material possessions she'd gotten to Sunnydale and teamed up with the Slayer. The rest of the story was familiar to Giles.

He pinched his nose. His guilt choked him. Had he only taken her in the way he knew he should have – he stopped himself. All that was important now was to get her better.

He couldn't have known what Willow had once said - that she knew Faith had had it hard but that it didn't matter. He couldn't have known how much that had hurt the Slayer.

* * *

Willow and Faith had been rivals from the start. Rivals for Buffy's attention, they were. Willow, of course, had won in the end, but she'd never lost her resentment for the girl for challenging her spot at Buffy's right hand.

When Tara got back from the prison, she made sure to see her. They cuddled for a while comfortably. Willow could see that Tara was upset but she didn't want to hear about Faith and her pathetic problems – how could she have known they were real? So she was silent, and Tara went uncomforted. Despite spending a calm afternoon together, both felt lonely that night.

* * *

Xander met up with Buffy at the bar to talk about Faith. He had decided that the past was the past. He was no man for grudges. Buffy wished that she could so easily forgive Faith, although she though that perhaps having seen her naked helped Xander to do so. The thought that maybe she should try it made her snort. She stopped drinking at that point. She and Xander spent a pleasant night drinking lightly and talking about all of their misadventures. She realized belatedly that she'd missed him since he'd been living with Anya.

They resolved to reunite. For the first time in more than a week, Buffy slept soundly and contentedly through the night.


	12. Ties

A/N: Without further ado:

What She Needs

Chapter Twelve: _Ties_

Seeing Tara still upset the next day, Willow assumed that Faith was to blame. She may have been right, but not in the way she guessed. She confronted Tara at breakfast, her eyes darkening almost imperceptibly to show her anger.

"What did she do?" Willow snarled at her unresponsive girlfriend. "I've had enough of her. She shows up and suddenly you're sad and not spending time with me, and it's not fair and I bet she's trying to steal you away. Tell me, what did she do to upset you? Don't lie to me, I hate it when you lie to keep me calm." Willow's emotions ran wild, rippling across her features. Tara could sense the untapped magic roiling within. Her eyes widened. With the focus she'd been putting into Faith's treatment she'd forgotten to keep an eye on Willow's magic use. It was clear to her that this was a grave error on her part. Willow had most certainly been experimenting with dark magic.

"S-she did-dn't d-do anything, W-willow. C-calm down," Tara uttered meekly, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. It hurt her to fight with her lover. It hurt her to see her lover mad. It hurt most to fear for her own safety with Willow, who she had trusted to keep her safe.

Willow did not listen. Her hair darkened at the roots and her veins began to show. Truth spells shot through her head. She fought with her magic. She didn't want to have to force Tara to tell her. _That would be wrong_, a voice weakly reminded her. Her rage was taking over her mind.

"I'll ask you once more, Tare," Willow rumbled, "What did Faith do to you?" At her girlfriend's silence she roiled. She began to twist a spell.

Tara shot out of her chair at the breakfast table.

"You wouldn't!" she exclaimed, almost in tears. Shaking with emotion, she cried, "Willow, I can't tell you. Stop this now! I-I don't want to lose you to your anger. Believe me when I say nothing happened." She hopelessly brought her hand to her hair, clearing it away from her face.

Willow couldn't believe that her love was lying to her. Lying to protect Faith, no less. She lost control completely, eyes blackened. Her truth curse shot out, directed only by her emotions.  
Tara blocked the burst of energy. Her pure magic protected her from the blast physically, but emotionally she was shattered. She had truly believed that Willow wouldn't hurt her. Willow had given her hope that humans weren't only bringers of hate and pain. She ran from the room sobbing.

Willow stared after her, shocked and appalled at herself once her outburst was done. She fell numbly, and stared at the ground for a long time.

* * *

Cordelia jerked up from where she'd been peacefully napping at the reception desk of Angel Investigations.

"I'm awake, I'm awake. Shut up and let me get to the door," she grumbled lowly as she headed for the entrance. She'd heard banging. "Don't you know it's open?"

She let Tara in. The blonde was a mess, hair askew, eyes red, and fingers twitching.  
"What the fuck happened, Tare?" Cordelia bluntly inquired. She shook back her thick mane of hair and approached the woman she'd recently come to care for as a friend. She took in Tara's torn expression with worry. Her brow creased, as it seemed often had been the case in the past few weeks.

"W-willow, sh-sh-she…" Tara broke off, holding herself together at the seams. Cordelia's eyes suddenly burnt with fury.

"What did she do to you?" the Queen rumbled.

"She w-wanted me t-to t-tell her wh-what had, had h-happened w-with F-Faith b-but I d-d-didn't and she, she t-tried to spell me, C-Cor," Tara pushed out, her words trembling as they passed her lips. Cordelia fought her anger, knowing that Tara needed support now, and vengeance later, although she doubted the mild witch would ever seek it. She drew Tara into her arm gently, hushing her. All the while she plotted ways to destroy the redhead she'd used to think of as so harmless. She'd been wrong, clearly. Tara let herself be comforted by the strong brunette. A stray thought ran through her head that maybe Cordelia's affection was so rare because it was so potent. She had come to Los Angeles because she hadn't known where else to go, but it appeared that even if she'd had other options Cordelia would have won out. The socialite's silent support and anger on her behalf were more comfort than empty words could ever have been.

* * *

Giles, in his home, decided to give Faith the privacy she deserved. Her past, however spotted and miserable, he would carry to his grave, as it was never his secret to tell. Buffy visited, waving a white flag. She said that she'd come to conclude that hating Faith would be counterproductive. She told him that if Faith ever got better and came to town, she'd try to work with the other Slayer. Giles smiled.

Buffy's guilt finally began to fade away along with her imaginings of Faith's attempted decapitation.

* * *

Unfortunately, she came home to Willow's grief. Seeing her best friend absolutely lost, she ran to the redhead's side.

"Willow!" she cried desperately, hoping to provoke some reaction from her dear friend.

Willow only pounded on the ground in response.

"Willow," Buffy repeated weakly.

Willow looked up.

"I ruined everything," Willow revealed, "she'll never trust me again. I couldn't control it, it just shot out of me, I swear! But I lost her forever, I just know it." She frowned. "Faith tore us apart." Hearing this, Buffy very nearly lost it. She'd seen her friend's mind unraveling, but she'd never expected her to threaten Tara as she'd implied.

"What did you do, Will?" Buffy pleaded. She hoped to all gods seen and unseen that Willow still held some rationality in her.

"I tried to make her tell the truth," Willow blankly replied. "With magic," came the afterthought.

Buffy began to cry.

"Willow, please tell me that you didn't do this to her," she begged. "Tell me that you didn't!" Willow could not. Buffy's lips trembled. Her heart cracked for her old friend.

"What kind of magic have you been playing with, that this shot out with no chanting or herbs or Wicca-fu?" Buffy wondered aloud. Her pulse thudded in her ears. This was not her Willow. It had to be an imposter; certainly her Willow would try to force her love into anything. She knew the answer to her question: Willow had been wandering again into dark magic. Cold fear slid over her like a white sheet.

"You need to get help," Buffy commanded, though her voice trembled, "You can't be delving into dark magic. Not when it makes you hurt Tara. Not ever, but especially not when it makes you hurt Tara. God, Willow, what were you thinking? That she'd confess that Faith did something evil and then you'd make sweet love for hours to make up for Faith's evilness?"

Willow stayed silent, although at the mention of Faith her eyes grew cold and dark.


	13. To Feel

A/N: We continue.

What She Needs

Chapter Thirteen: _To Feel_

Dawn sat with her mother. She twirled a glass of orange juice in her fingers. She contemplated what she was about to ask.

"Dawnie," Joyce began impatiently, but still with love, "what is it?"

Dawn shot up from her seat and began to pace.

"Can you drive me to the prison?" she asked. "I need to see her. I need to know that she's alive." Her brow quivered and her lips trembled with emotion, and Joyce could not deny her daughter this one request.

* * *

Giles picked up his phone distractedly, still paging through The Tie That Binds. "Hm?" was his telephonic introduction.

"Giles, it's about Willow. She needs help," Buffy whispered desperately. "She tried to use magic on Tara. Something's wrong," she stressed, "Something is very wrong. Please, help me."

Giles could not say no.

"I'll see what I can do. I know of a coven in England that could provide a sort of rehabilitation program for her, but one hopes that she has not progressed that far yet," he replied as calmly as he could. "If you would like to bring her here, do so." He heard Buffy sigh with relief.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," she promised.

* * *

It was not often that Anya portrayed empathy. For her love, she would try.

"Everything is falling apart," Xander murmured. "Buffy's showing a strong face but she's with Riley just to feel safe. Willow's turned into something I don't even understand. This Faith situation is scary. I don't know what's going on anymore. Ahn, I don't understand. What happened to us?"

She said nothing because she knew that her words would only sound wrong to him and make him sad. She could not lie to him or tell him that it would be okay.

Instead, she held his hand and offered to go with him to Giles's.

"I'll be with you the whole time," she promised.

It was enough.

* * *

Cordelia would not let Tara go to see Faith.

"You can't heal her if you're hurt yourself," she offered bluntly. Her tone was soft, though, and Tara couldn't help but agree.

"How c-can I be healed?" Tara inquired, her tears at last gone but the tremble in her voice betraying her anguish. "She was my first love. I trusted her. Sh-she b-broke that t-trust."

Cordelia knelt before the seated blonde and looked her straight in the eye.

"You will heal because you will have to. You have a life to live. You have more heart in you than most of the people in this world combined. And what you can't figure out yourself will be fixed by the people who care for you," Cordelia replied. Eyes steely, she dared Tara to contradict her.

Tara didn't believe her, but she couldn't fight her. The blonde nodded slowly. Cordelia let it pass for the moment. She wouldn't force Tara to stop grieving. If the Wicca needed years to cry before she could stand tall again, Cordelia swore that she would help her. It was not often that people trusted Cordelia with their hearts. She would not betray Tara's trust.

* * *

By the time that Giles opened his door and let the Scoobies in, he was prepared. His research sat on the coffee table. His tea stood beside. His calm was complete.

"Come in," he ordered. Willow, stony and unresponsive, walked in first. She sat on the couch. Buffy followed her, full of apprehension. Anya and Xander came in together. Their clasped hands caught his eye. Anya's silence betrayed her worry for her lover.

Giles took his seat last. Buffy broke the silence.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"It all depends on how far Willow's gone into the dark arts and how uncontrolled her magic use has become. In short," he uttered lowly, "I don't really know what to do."

"She said that the magic came out of her out of nowhere. She had no control. She didn't even need to chant or concoct anything," Buffy sputtered, eyes wide. Her hand shook where she brushed back her hair. Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"This is very bad," he murmured. He continued, "It's possible for Willow to draw herself out of it, but only if she wants to. Magic is addictive. I'm sure she gets pleasure from its use. I'm also sure that it adds to her paranoia. That's probably why she attacked Tara."

At Tara's mention, Willow twitched.

"I didn't mean to," she yelled, "I didn't mean to." She collapsed into sobs. "Faith's fault, Faith's fault!" she chanted. Buffy held Willow to her. She held Xander's eye. They both took in shaking breaths filled with fear.

"Send her to England," Xander commanded, "She won't do this on her own. We can't help her." At that, all of the energy left him and his head hung. "We can't help her," he repeated. Anya drew his hand to her lips. She ran a finger through the creases on his brow.

"We'll get her help," she said. And Xander knew that she too was scared.

Giles made the call.

* * *

Joyce pulled up to the prison.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" she asked. Dawn shook her head.

"I'll be okay," she replied, smiling reassuringly. Joyce worried that Dawn had grown up too fast. Buffy's constant battles with death and the end of the world had affected them both.

In she went. Faith sat in her cell. She was in the midst of wondering where Tara was when she saw Dawn.

There were so many memories. Each flashed in her head. Each showed Faith her own worthlessness, the wrongs that she had committed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I would never hurt you. Never. Never. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Faith swore in a mantra, rocking back and forth. She could see the knife in her hand again.

Dawn stepped into the cell. She took in Faith's scars. She held back her tears.

"I know," passed her lips. She sat beside the girl she used to idolize and ran her fingers gently through Faith's hair.

Faith continued to babble unheeded. She let her hair be French braided. She let Dawn trace her scars to take in the rough texture. She let Dawn hold her hand. Her eyes stayed in the past. She could not escape her mistakes, but she felt the warmth at her right.

Dawn kissed her on the forehead just as her sister had done so long ago.

"I forgive you," she intoned, "not that I was ever angry. I understand. I know how you felt because I felt it when I looked in your eyes. I had a lot of time to learn you. I know you better than you know yourself, Faith, because you were lost." She might have been young, but she understood people.

When Faith finally pulled herself out of her dreamscape, she was surprised to see Dawn.

"Thought you were just in my head," she muttered, frowning and pulling herself into a tight ball on the ground. Dawn shook her head.

"I had to see you," she gently spoke, "to know that you were alive. I worried about you, you know."

"Not worth the trouble," Faith shot back, "Should put me down for what I did to you."

Dawn smiled.

"You didn't do anything to me. You didn't even scare me, Fai. You were terrified."

Faith snorted. "Figures you'd be braver'n I was," she muttered.

Dawn hugged her close.

"Don't scare me like that again, Fai," she ordered.

"Try not, 'Lil D."


	14. Flame

A/N: WARNING: This one is more than a little bit dark. But, I had to update for Christmas (not that I'm Christian...). So, here you go.

What She Needs

Chapter Fourteen: _Flame_

Tara took a deep breath. She was ready; she had to be. Faith needed help and Tara would not sacrifice her for the sake of her broken heart. She walked into the prison. Her head was bowed but her pace was steady. Cordelia stood back by her convertible. Brown hair swayed with the wind as she adjusted her sunglasses.

"If it's too much, just come back out," Cordelia commanded. Tara nodded, but she knew she couldn't follow the directive. Her guilt was already too strong from leaving Faith alone. Determined, she strode through security and into Faith's cell.

Dawn's visit the other day had left Faith drained. She sat in the corner of her cell, drifting in and out of consciousness. She didn't hear Tara's arrival. Her scarred cheeks twitched as she dreamed. Tara thought she looked beautiful and sad.

Tara waited in the doorway until Faith awoke, knowing that approaching the sleeping girl would be dangerous. Her fingers twitched anxiously; she wanted to get to work.

"Faith?" she called out. The dark girl awoke, suddenly jumping to her feet. Her eyes skittered about the room until she focused enough to notice the blonde at her door.

"Here," she croaked out. She seemed on the verge of falling back asleep standing up. She leaned against the concrete wall, her eyes half-lidded and circled with dark insomnia.

"How are you doing?" Tara asked gently, walking closer to her patient. She could see the dark mass of Faith's aura. Today did not seem to be a good day.

"Dawnie came ta visit th'other day," Faith drawled, "an' I can't sleep since, not for long. 'S gettin' harder'n harder to think straight." She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, wincing.

"What happened?" Tara questioned, still eyeing Faith's aura as it swirled around her. It was so murky that it was hard for Tara to tell where Faith's aura started and ended.

"Nothin' bad, jus' weird. Seein' the lil' bit made the memories come back and I can't shut'em up," Faith replied. Her leg popped up and down with restless energy.

"Does it make sense to work on your scars today?" Tara inquired. A moment later, she answered her own question. "I guess we have to. Maybe it'll help you think more clearly."

Faith nodded weakly and turned so that the zipper on the back of her straightjacket was exposed. Tara drew the clasp down slowly. As with every time she saw it, Faith's back awed her and saddened her. However, she'd finished clearing Faith's back of her aura, so she focused on the other, small scars on Faith's arms and legs that held traces of the girl's aura. Immersed in her work, she hardly noticed Faith's shuddering and gasps of pain. Anyone could have seen that this was going nowhere good.

Tara almost smiled to herself. Faith was clean but for the major wounds on her arms and face, her stab wound, and (she blushed) the gouges on the girl's butt. They'd made major progress over the past few weeks.

Faith shifted uselessly, her pain forcing her to move. She wasn't crying, but she wanted to. There was too much in her head. She was in too many places at once. She held onto reality with a single strand of hair. When Tara reached out to brush against the scars on her ass, she screamed. Everything shifted, and she was back in her childhood room. Joey was gripping her hard with his meaty hands. She could feel his nails pierce her flesh and she focused on that instead of the feeling of his cock destroying her insides. She heard him speaking in her ear: "you're so sexy, you're so tight, you like that don't you, so much better than your mother".

Tara fell back in horror. What had she done? The magic had felt so good; it had cleansed her of her hurt from Willow's betrayal. But it wasn't worth the price. Faith had stopped screaming and was pounding the wall with her fist. Tara heard the bones crack, but Faith kept going. There was a sizeable dent in the wall.

Faith saw Tara – or rather, she saw Joey. She roared.

"Not defenseless anymore, I'll make you pay, you bastard," Faith growled, pushing Tara (Joey) to the ground and leaning down to her (his) ear.

"You'll never hurt me again," she breathed. Tara (Joey) whimpered. Faith grinned. Tara saw the Dark Slayer, sexy and dangerous. Faith reached out and pulled up Tara (Joey)'s hips so that she could reach her (his) ass. She squeezed. Tara (Joey) jerked.

"Not so much fun when it's you, eh?" Faith intoned, breathing on Tara (Joey)'s ear. Tara couldn't bring herself to tell Faith to stop. She felt she deserved this punishment for hurting Faith. She hated herself for using Faith to ease her pain, in the process causing the hurt girl more pain. Faith would have to draw herself out of this dream; Tara wouldn't.

Faith dropped Tara (Joey) back to the ground. She let her hand trail over Tara (Joey)'s waist.

"This turn you on?" she taunted. She planned to break his dick for what he'd done to her. She drew her hand towards where his dick should be, and stopped. Nothing made sense. Where was the fucker's package? She pulled back, confused. She took stock of her surroundings. Cold cell floor. Smells like Blondie. Broken hand. Joey? No Joey. Tara?

"Tara?"

Everything went black.

Tara sat up, stunned. She'd half-expected Faith to rape her, from the look in her eyes. Seeing Faith fall, she scrambled to catch her. The girl's dead weight ruined her balance and they tumbled to the floor. Tara sighed. She blamed herself for the whole incident. Resigned, she combed through Faith's dark hair and waited for her to awake. It would be rude, after all, to leave without saying goodbye.

* * *

The entire Scooby gang saw Willow off. The redhead appeared defeated. After several attempts at intervention, she accepted that they were shipping her off to England to work on her magic. She didn't like it, she thought they were crazy, but she knew that she had to do it. She couldn't resist one final jab before leaving, though.

"Keep my Tara away from the psycho, kay?" she requested of Buffy, smiling darkly.

Buffy's shoulders drooped. Willow used to be so nice, she thought sadly. Dawn caught her eye and grabbed her hand. For once, she didn't fight the sisterly affection.

After Willow had been seen to her plane, the group headed back to the Magic Box. Anya sat behind the teller. Her bored eyes perked up when Xander walked in. Buffy felt a little jealous. She didn't feel the same love for Riley. She reminded herself to call him; they were due for some regular, beefstick-style sex, as she imagined Faith would call it. She hadn't been wrong about the boy, either.

Giles picked the phone up as it rang.

"Yes?" he said, uninterested.

"It's Cordelia. I told Tara not to go to see Faith, but this morning she did the whole puppy-dog face and I couldn't say no. But it's been hours and she hasn't come out. What am I supposed to do? I have work, and I can't just barge in because God only knows what that would do to her mojo."

"I'll take over. Be there in ten," he promised. He couldn't help but smile. Cordelia was nothing like Buffy, but he still felt like her Watcher.

It felt good to be useful.


	15. Waking Dream

A/N: Another transition chapter. I know the latest have been short...I have no excuse, really.

What She Needs

Chapter Fifteen: _Waking Dream_

Faith woke to warmth, and pain. Her whole body ached, especially her hand. She wanted to move, but she was so tired… The room slid in and out of focus around her. Blonde strands brushed her face once in a while, confusing her. Her fuzzy mind recalled that she was brunette, that it made no sense for there to be blonde hair nearby. Slowly, she came to notice that a hand was running across her scalp soothingly. She hummed in contentment. The aches subsided to the back of her mind. Her eyes drooped, hoping to bring her back into Morpheus's arms.

"Faith?" she heard. She grumbled unhappily, and swatted approximately at the source of the sound. Her half-hearted attempt knocked at Tara's jaw. Faith latched on with her fingertips, exploring her captor's face. Tara waited patiently for Faith to regain her senses.

Faith's head buzzed. Soft skin, it recorded, full lips. High voice, must be female. Female blonde, but not B. Rounded nose, definitely not B. Her hand dropped back down. Tara tried again.

"F-Faith?" Stutter, Faith registered. Familiar. On the tip of my mind, gah. Red's girl? Name, name. I know her name.

"Tara?" Faith choked out. Tara sighed in relief. Her hand continued to travel through Faith's dark tresses. She'd been so scared. Her eyes teared up. She held control of her emotions by a single thread.

Faith heard a sniffle. Her memory was coming back in snippets, but she paused in her recollections.

"Why ya cryin', Tare?" Faith asked as gently as she could. Her rough voice stopped her from sounding the way she wanted to, and she frowned. Her question only pushed Tara to further tears. Tara's guilt consumed her. She took Faith's pain as her own.

"I sh-shouldn't h-have p-pushed so f-f-far, but th-the m-magic f-felt t-too good," she sobbed out. Faith pushed herself up on her broken hand, ignoring the protestations of her body.

"Ain't nobody's fault, Tare. Was bound to happen. I'm jus' glad I din't succeed in hurtin' ya," Faith assured her, reaching out with her good hand to brush away Tara's tears. She slowly struggled to stand up, dragging her Wicca doctor with her.

"You need to get yourself home for some rest, Tare," Faith ordained. Tara cried harder still at Faith's concern. She didn't deserve it after she'd brought such pain on the girl.

Slowly, Tara found her way out.

* * *

Giles stopped by the Summers home later.

"I came to speak to Dawn for just a moment," he announced primly. Joyce nodded shortly and walked away, hoping that she wouldn't have to interact overmuch with the man she'd once been taken by atop a police cruiser...she blushed. She called up to her daughter and hid in the kitchen, preparing a dinner for (hopefully) her favorite girls. Buffy had promised to come by, after all. Joyce busied herself with the salad, holding back a sigh. She missed her oldest.

Dawn tromped down the stairs happily, greeting Giles with a smile.

"What do you need?" she asked, hoping it would be something supernatural. She liked to help with the whole saving-the-world thing. It made her feel almost as cool as a Slayer. She frowned as Giles adjusted his glasses. She suddenly felt guilty without knowing why.

"Well," he began, shifting on his feet, "I just brought Tara back from the prison. I, ah, understand your eagerness to check on Faith, but it would appear that your visit had worsened her condition." He cleared his throat. "There is no blame implied here. I would simply ask that you wait to see her again until we've assured that she is ready to be visited." At the end of his short speech, he looked away from Dawn's rapidly tearing eyes. His shoes were very interesting, he noted.

"I did-didn't mean to hurt her," Dawn sobbed, sitting down on the stairs, "I j-just had to know she was alive." Giles nodded.

"Understandable," he concluded, wondering what he should do. Crying teenage girls were not his specialty. "And I'm glad that you care for her. She's going to need that loving attention once we get her a little bit better. But for now, she's having a hard enough time figuring out what's real and what's not without added...interruptions."

Dawn rubbed her knees, nodded once, and escaped to her room.

Giles sighed, and left for his apartment. The books wouldn't read themselves.


	16. Perhaps, Safety

A/N: Back on the horse.

What She Needs

Chapter Sixteen: _Perhaps, Safety_

Rupert Giles cleared his mind and sat heavily upon his lounge chair. His eyes slid shut, pressed so by his fingers as the brushed over to his nose, grasping. On the coffee table sat a sheet of paper overflowing with notes and arrows - a plan. Rupert Giles was, after all, a man who believed in planning. No matter was too small or large to be carefully considered, according to him. He'd long ago grown out of his recklessness. Faith's health was no different; if anything, he was more vehement in his desire to see every detail taken care of.

Once he felt confident that his mental strength had returned, Mr. Giles traced his writing with a finger, murmuring reminders to himself.

"Warden, discuss removal - inadequate facilities, psychiatric institutions unprepared to deal with her. No transfer to psych ward - risk of backtracking. Cordelia as guardian? Myself? Miss Tara? Possibilities. Avoid direct SD involvement as of yet. Aural treatment near half completion; safer mental state. Prison no longer useful - possibly too much time to think. GED? Proximity to either Tara or Cordelia a must - safest. Reminder to ask about relationship development: repair? Needs a stable environment. Never left alone for too long. Sleep patterns (monitor?). Begin outside visitation at 75-100%? Check with Tara."

His monologue was interrupted by the telephone.

"Hm?" He eloquently greeted.

"It's Cordelia. How was Tara? I didn't get a chance to check in with her, and you mentioned a plan on the side?" The receiver purred in his ear. Giles nodded to himself.

"Tara was in quite a state when I picked her up. It seems that she pushed too far, sending Faith into a bout of psychosis. She wouldn't explain what exactly happened, but she felt incredibly guilty about it. However, she mentioned that all of the minor aural wounds have been dealt with. We have less to go, but I suppose it will take longer to get through it," Giles replied. He frowned to himself. He hadn't thought much of Tara's distress at the time considering that she always looked a bit worse for wear coming out of the prison, but now it seemed more dire.

"Goddamnit Giles. I'll call her in a minute to see what the deal is. The plan?" Cordelia continued flawlessly despite the frustration adding tension to her voice.

"The plan is to move Faith from the prison to somewhere safer and more stable, hopefully near you or Tara. I have no idea how I'm going to get it to happen. It'll probably be bureaucracy, or lawyers. Make an argument and run away with her." Giles absentmindedly responded, twirling a glass of scotch in his hand. His plan would help Faith, but he hadn't the clout to see it realized...

"Done," Cordelia primly crowed, as if she were a demoness, and hung up.

Giles smiled.

* * *

Faith passed through the next two weeks on standby but for when Tara or Cordelia came to visit her, typically every other day. She remained largely a slave to her own mind and memories. The guards and prisoners began to worry for her; she'd never been so quiet and unmoving. When Cordelia happened by, she allowed herself to smile and tease, which the former cheerleader took as a great sign. At the end of a particularly lucid visit, she found herself spinning like a child in Faith's arms. Back at her apartment, she cried for the girl she hardly ever saw come out of Faith.

Tara, on the other hand, saw Faith's darkness. Not the evil kind of darkness, nor the apathetic and consuming darkness of death. She met Faith's self-hatred as she worked to heal the wounds from Faith's suicide attempt. During her visits, Faith would rant and rave or cry or howl. Tara promised to herself that she would be strong and show not pity but rather hold Faith up when she could not herself.

During this time, Cordelia set Angel's lawyers against the Federal penitentiary system. She gave them all of the evidence and arguments that she could come up with and ordered them to make it happen. As usual, they could do nothing but comply. Faith's case was up for review in about a month. It was as fast as money and anger could make the wheels turn. For the first time in a long time, Cordelia let loose all of her frustration and didn't worry that she would feel stuck in her Sunnydale persona.

No word came from the coven supporting Willow. Giles assured the Scoobies that this was standard procedure, that she wouldn't be allowed contact with the outside world until it was ascertained that she could safely handle it without relapse. Still, Xander held Buffy's hand at Giles's house when they had meetings to discuss the situation. They felt closer than ever in their worry. After all, they were the redhead's closest friends. Tara slipped through their minds. Her grief went unnoticed by the Slayer and her page.

Cordelia began to realize that sometimes it was worth it to care about people. Once upon a time, she'd tried that with Xander - and lost her heart to it. But she would try again, because no one seemed to be stepping up to the plate to help Tara through her time of need. Tara found herself more often in L.A. or at the prison than her dorm when not in class. Cordelia could always convince her that she could bring her laptop if she needed to work, or Giles would lend her a ride... It very nearly escaped her notice that the father figure of the Scoobies was working together with the former bitch extraordinaire to make sure that she never felt alone. Somehow, she managed to keep breathing. Occasionally, through a haze of work, Faith, or Willow, she'd absently observe that she'd never been cared for as thoroughly.

* * *

After one of their hardest sessions, dealing with her abdominal scar, Faith looked up from her slumped position against the wall and asked Tara when she'd felt happiest in her life. Before Tara could answer, Faith spoke quietly.

"I think the happiest moment of my life was sittin' with Lil' D and Mrs. S on Christmas. B was gone, and all, but I wasn't too fussed because I had the sweetest people anyone could ask for right by me, and B was a shit to miss out."

Tara, equally drained with her head haphazardly drooping on Faith's shoulder, finally replied.

"When W-Willow f-first t-told me she l-loved me," she choked out, trying to hold back a sob. She was there to help Faith get better, not use her for help! She reprimanded herself.

Faith wasn't bothered. Her eyes were closed, but she heard ever word, catch, and hidden whimper. She drew her free hand up to brush Tara's hair with.

"Yeah," she murmured, "That sounds mighty nice."

Tara didn't have to ask to know that Faith had never heard or felt such a thing before, and she cried harder.


	17. A Home

A/N: Again with the lateness. I apologize. It's that pretending-real-life-exists problem.

What She Needs

Chapter Seventeen: _A Home_

Cordelia Chase stood just outside of the prison gates, smirking. Her cherry convertible held her up from behind. Beside her, a nervous Tara fluttered. During the court deliberations, neither girl had seen Faith. It was a trying time. However, the success of Cordelia's lawyers could only bode well – to Cordelia's mind, at least. Tara had some doubts. She wondered if Faith was ready to face the outside world. She feared that her treatment had only alleviated Faith's immediate symptoms, and that Faith would injure herself if left alone for any length of time despite all she'd done to help Faith stop hating herself.

Rupert Giles was indisposed to oversee Faith's release: while he had met with Faith since the creation of his plan, this day was for the girls. His girls, he thought fondly. Faith would be escorted into the arms of the two people who loved her most in the world. She'd never hoped for such attention or affection in her admittedly short life.

Thus, when the "dark" slayer left the prison walls, she felt no fear. Upon seeing her, Cordelia ran (_Cordelia_ ran) to greet her. Their happiness was so genuine that Tara felt a sympathetic relief of tension. She had to smile. Cordelia was at her most beautiful when she was at her most caring, Tara mused off-handedly. She'd probably get even more dates if she scowled a bit less.

Faith was led through the abrasive morning light and into Cordelia's fine vehicle. Tara sat in the back, wanting to give the best friends time to celebrate. Her discomfort did not go unnoticed.

"Tare, calm yourself. Your voice is making my ears ring," Cordelia snarked, grinning nonetheless. Faith chuckled in agreement, but turned to look at Tara. She wanted to be sure that Tara's eyes held no clouds or shadows of distress. Once reassured, she returned to her light banter with the Queen. Oddly satisfied, Tara let the other passengers fill the air with chatter as she perused the landscape on the way to L.A.

Looking around her new room, Faith's eyes glowed. She caressed the drapes, examined the carpet, sniffed the candles. It was perfect; it was decorated without being fussy, feminine without being girly.

"How-" Faith began, hardly able to speak in her awe. Tara stifled a chuckle. "Ah," Faith went on, "Cor, did you make use of her eerie witchy powers?" Her smile kept any venom from the comment. Tara looked down, embarrassed. Cordelia didn't deign Faith's question with a reply and instead showed her about her new home. She would have a private bath and bedroom, but the rest of the apartment would be shared. Cordelia expected nothing less than three shared meals a day, two in emergencies. She glanced meaningfully at Tara before reminding the witch that she too was expected over at least twice a week for dinner, if not more. These commands each came with Cordelia's best Queen voice and her truest smile. Faith, overwrought, could do nothing but touch Cordelia's hand with her index lightly. Cordelia understood.

While Cordelia began to pester Dennis about breakfast, Faith came to stand in front of Tara.

"We still gonna have our sessions, or are you done?" Faith asked almost fearfully. She itched at her scars, as she was wont to do when nervous. Tara's hand, as usual, stopped her.

"Yes," Tara replied, "We have a few left to do. These, for example," she murmured, her hand brushing Faith's cheek. "B-but wh-when w-w-we're d-done I-I'll still see you, i-if-if that's o-okay with you." Her stutter, so pronounced at the end of her statement, made her blush furiously and she began to step back and hide herself. Faith stopped her before she made the first step with gentle words.

"Of course." Once Faith was certain that Tara wasn't scared anymore, she continued, "I'd been hoping you were stickin' around for more than just my looks." Her smirk carried Tara's laugh through the house. Cordelia yelled out that food had arrived.

The house was filled.

Dawn was allowed to visit Faith a scant few days later. Finding the longtime object of her admiration much more lucid, she tackled the girl with a hug upon seeing her. Faith only laughed and piggybacked the kid around the apartment until Cordelia yelled at her.

Much later, after cartoons had been watched and many cheese doodles consumed, Dawn allowed herself to ask Faith the questions that had been plaguing her since she'd heard of Faith's attempt.

"Why was the only way out death, Fai?" Dawn asked seriously. Faith winced. She sighed. She pushed herself up onto her hands and she took a deep breath.

"She told me to. Every day she was in my head, everyone was in my head but me and they all wanted me to end it. Fuck, I wanted me to end it to. I just wanted them to shut up, and I wanted to do right by B. I couldn' apologize, it wasn't enough. Th'only way to make it right would be a life for a life, you know? That's what was going through my head. I tried fighting it, telling myself it didn't make sense but I was hurting and I didn't wanna hurt any more. So I tried to do the right thing, but it turns out that you can't pull ya'own head off. Harder'n it looks." At the end of her abrupt speech, Faith held in her tears and scratched at her head, trying to avoid looking Dawn in the eye. She knew how hard it was for the girl to see her mangled face – she didn't want to see Dawn's reaction to her pitiful mind.

Dawn understood. In a way, she always had. But she'd needed to hear it to believe it. Slowly, she approached Faith and pushed into her arms. Shielded, she let herself cry for the woman she could have lost and for the relief that she'd been found. Faith held Dawn for an age. Every day, it seemed, she was surprised to find supporters in the people whose lives she'd tried to tear apart. Her own tears joined Dawn's, and together they fell into an emotionally exhausted doze. Cordelia let them sleep for hours for she couldn't bear to part the truly adorable scene. A few heart wrenchingly cute pictures found their way into the email boxes of Tara Maclay and Joyce Summers. Cordelia cackled in the privacy of her lair (as she liked to think of it when in a mischievous mood).

Amidst Faith's rehabilitation was the ordinary demon fighting and Willow's own "issues". Though no major apocalypse had appeared to distract the Scoobies for near two months, well, no major apocalypse had appeared for near two months. It was that time again. Chanting demon priests were bound to be around Sunnydale. Willow, as well, had been in contact indirectly through the coven. She seemed to be doing moderately well. She was not happy to be in England. She was not happy to be forced to stop performing magic. However, she soaked up all of the magical expertise she was exposed to. It was sort of like a magical convention with no magic, she decided. In her abundant spare time (to reflect, the Wiccas said) she planned out an intricate courtship that would get her Tara back.

She had to apologize for the spell, obviously. That was step one. Then she had to demonstrate control of her magic, step two. This was why she had begun to comply with the coven's requests. Next, she would assess what she had angrily dubbed the "Faith problem" and deal with it accordingly. She was sure that by this time the gang had returned to ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Faith's breasts. She growled at the thought. Finally, she would perform a romantic gesture (flowers? Candles? Candle-flowers?) to display her devotion to Tara. They'd ride off into the sunset and maybe enjoy a few not-so-chaste kisses. Plan complete and airtight, she assured herself. Well, as complete and airtight as it could be based on absolutely no information.

Buffy came home one day to a picture of Faith and Dawn cuddled up. At first, she hardly noticed it. Must've been in the attic or something, she thought, and Dawn's brought it out since she's been seeing her again. Halfway up the stairs to her room – she was on a laundry run – she stopped. Backed up. And ran down to the picture. Angry red marks crossed Faith's cheeks, neck, and arms (which, she noted approvingly, were wrapped protectively around Dawn).

"Those must be the scars," she muttered, horrified. The picture was excellent in quality; she felt she could almost smell the blood that must have been shed through the frame. When she'd envisioned Faith's injuries, she'd never imagined that they would so mar her beauty. She stopped herself from bitterly thinking that she couldn't steal anyone's boyfriend now. Sickened by her own mind, she ran back up the stairs.

Joyce Summers stood idly by, watching. Her daughter was an odd bird, admittedly, but the reaction wasn't surprising. Joyce herself had to fight the revulsion Faith's scars immediately produced. Jagged and raised, they destroyed a magnificent visage. She wanted to cry for the loss – not of the beauty but of the girl behind it. She hoped that someday soon her younger daughter would judge Faith fit to visit. She couldn't reasonably herself visit the Slayer, but she could hope that Faith would appear in her home. She'd ceased worrying that Faith was dangerous a long time ago.

She knew it to be false.


	18. Finding Heart

A/N: Apologies.

What She Needs

Part Eighteen: _Finding Heart_

Faith walked out of Cordelia's apartment alone for the first time. On a whim she'd decided to run out to the store to buy popcorn since Cordelia had promised her a movie night. With her ability to smile increasing daily, she'd had enough confidence to leave her home.

When she was with her friends, she forgot herself. It was easy to believe that she could be human with her girls. Faith was unprepared. As soon as she stepped out into sunny LA, a man knocked into her. Disoriented, she turned slowly to walk down the street. She caught eight glares on the way to the store. Inside, a little girl asked innocently if she was wearing a mask.

Then, she remembered. She slid to a mirror and stared. Hand trembling, she rubbed over her face. A monster, she thought, now they all know what I am. She considered the irony of Buffy always hoping she'd show her "true face" to the world. "Here it is," she murmured.

She never did buy that popcorn. When Cordelia arrived back from work, she found Faith sitting in the bathroom with a hand mirror, crying. Attempting to comfort the girl only enraged her. She reluctantly gave up after being shoved strongly away. Pride and elbow wounded, Cordelia phoned Tara to ask for advice. She was worried. As far as she knew, nothing had triggered the Slayer's emotional outburst.

Faith was subdued by the following morning. She decided that it would be better for her to be ugly. There would be no misconceptions and no one would ever rape her again. She convinced herself to ignore the issue. But Cordelia was careful to leave the mirrors covered after that incident. Faith rarely left the house, preferring to sit inside reading.

Tara and Cordelia conspired.

"I'm worried," Cordelia intoned, "because by now she should be raring to go. She's hardly been outside; her Slayer is growling at her. It's not healthy for her to stay cooped up like this, especially not voluntarily." Tara agreed.

"D-do you th-think sh-she should st-start Slaying ag-again?" the Wicca asked. Meekly she brushed her hair from her face. Cordelia shifted uncomfortably, but nodded.

"It has to be done," she uttered.

So they cornered Faith one evening after dinner. The Slayer stood illuminated by street lamps, facing away. Her fingers twitched uncontrollably but her voice stayed strong.

"I can't," she seriously stated. "I cannot go back out. No knowing who'll end up hurtin'. You wanna find out, Tare? Or you, Cor? Because I'm not particularly interested in figuring out who gets skewered." Her knee bopped up and down, up and down. Tara could not gather the courage to face her.

"You're suffocating yourself in here. Do you really think that this will help you? Hiding in my apartment?" Cordelia countered angrily. Her eyes flashed dangerously but only Faith's back would appreciate it. "We both know that you have to fight for your redemption and this is the best, the only way for you to come up against your crimes." Faith made no reply, but her shadow quivered.

A beat passed. Faith drew herself into Cordelia's personal space.

"You've made your point, Cordy," she growled. Her nostrils flared and her jaw clenched. "Now go." Head held high, Cordelia left the room. Faith would need time to think, of course.

"Y-you w-wouldn't h-have to b-be alone, you know," Tara whispered. Unable to face Faith's growing frustration and anger, she kept her eyes firmly focused on the wooden floor of Cordelia's living room.

Because of this, Faith was able to walk almost into Tara before she was noticed.

"I can't do it, Tare. If I let the killer out it won't ever stop. The bloodlust will consume me. It's better to keep me inside. I'm safe 'slong as I'm kept. Can't release the beast," Faith muttered. Tara frowned. She caught Faith by the hand.

"Why are you so scared?" She asked, eyes suddenly seeking Faith's. Faith's warm palm tickled the pads of her fingers. She contemplated the texture for a short moment. She searched for flaws in Faith's burnt amber eyes.

"Everyone can see it now. Everyone can see that I'm a monster. It's on my skin and it's true but I never thought... And now if I go out they're in danger and they know it, everyone just runs away. I told myself I would never subject to their pity but I can't run away and I can't be proud," Faith blurted. Her free hand lashed out and buried itself in the wall next to them. "I'm so lost. What am I living for?"

She fell, and Tara could only fall with her. Faith had no more tears to cry. Instead she held strongly to her healer and concentrated on breathing. Tara rubbed her thumb over Faith's knuckles and kissed her forehead.

She couldn't answer.


	19. Second Burn

A/N: Fuck has it been a while. A short bit to get back in the saddle. Sorry about the wait.

What She Needs

Chapter Nineteen: _The Second Burn_

Faith sat. She contemplated. She pondered. Mostly, she sat. Her eyes roamed the streets. She rubbed her nails across the window pane, catching at scratches. She watched but she did not see. Her mind focused in on her recent life. Since her impassioned speech she'd done nothing but wonder. _What am I living for?_

It wasn't good enough to live for the people who would cry if she died. It was, of course, nice to be cared for but that was no reason to live, no future to strive for. She had no career aspirations. The world didn't need another Slayer (she'd figured that one out the hard way). She had no family to care for. If anything she hated to impose upon her hostess. She itched to prove her worth to herself. In the night, Faith watched vampires rise and kill.

Cordelia's anxiety, meanwhile, grew daily. Faith spoke less and less, choosing instead to brood.

"I never asked for another Angel," she complained to the vamp good-naturedly, "Just my Faith." Dawn had come over that week and sat next to Faith for a full hour in complete silence before she could finally entice the recluse into quiet conversation. Even Tara had no luck. Cordelia's words rung in her mind. _She needs to go Slaying, Tara._

So Tara returned again and again. She brought stakes and books, knowing only the latter would be in use. She attempted to work with Faith but was blocked by Faith's mental state. Her aura clung to the remaining unhealed scars like static. Tara lost focus on her studies in her constant attempts to help Faith. Being Tara, there came no question why.

A week passed, then two. A third dawn rose to the girl by the window, sleepless. Faith stood up. Her eyes flashed. Her heart pounded. She couldn't control her body; it needed something that she wouldn't give it so it took over. She found herself running through the streets. She thought nothing of it until she smashed through the door to a dock warehouse. _Nine,_ she absently counted, not_ too bad._ Her feet spun her, her fists clenched and flew – in a moment, it seemed, she stood silent again. Faith ached from the battle. She went home, and sat back by the window. That day, she cried, and no one knew why.

Tara came by with Dawn, arms full of movies and snacks. She forced herself again to hope that Faith would be in a better mood. Upon finding her patient, her friend, letting tears fall by that same damned window she cracked. She grabbed Faith and dragged her up. Dawn went into the kitchen to unpack, hiding as a child from fighting parents.

"What is going on?" Tara asked forcefully, but keeping her grip light.

"Why am I alive, Tare?" Faith croaked. "What is my purpose here?" She let herself be held upright. Shocked, Tara paused for a moment.

"Because you deserve to find happiness," Tara answered finally. "Because everyone deserves to find happiness."

With that, she drew Faith to her and held her tight. Faith whimpered, but pressed her head into Tara's neck and let the comfort come. Her bruised hands twitched.


	20. Beauty

A/N: My usual apologies. I tried to make up for the wait with extra plot. As usual, lemme know whatcha think.

* * *

What She Needs

Part Twenty: _Beauty_

"I-I k-know what it's li-like to b-be a m-monster, F-Faith," Tara began haltingly. "I've f-felt the sa-same pain. When I wa-was a ch-child, my f-father told me I was a d-demon. H-he said that I-I would t-turn into a m-monster as an ad-adult, so he b-beat me. I-I needed l-l-love to m-make m-me t-try l-living."

Faith sat across from her, her hands in Tara's lap as the Wicca cleaned and bandaged them.

"Y-you're only a m-monster if y-you believe it t-to be true. I-I don't be-believe you're a m-monster. You're my, y-you're m-my fr-fr-friend and wh-whether or not you notice it, y-you take c-care of me and Cordy and D-Dawn," she continued. She couldn't bring herself to look Faith in the eye. She felt certain that, just as with Willow, admitting her feelings would only lead to disaster. It took all of her courage to tell Faith that she cared about her for all that it was obvious. Still, she knew that she had to try, for Faith's sake.

"Y-you d-don't th-think you can h-have a future, but i-if you so ch-choose you can f-find a life. N-not even j-just as a S-Slayer. I-Imagine the g-girls you could h-help, g-girls who hurt the w-way you hurt. O-Or the passion y-you could sustain r-running a b-bike shop. I kn-know you h-have it in you. I n-need you to kn-know that you can t-take your f-fate into your own h-hands," Tara said. Her heart thrummed, and Faith could hear it pound. She focused on that rhythm with a focused intensity unmatchable by any less stubborn. She willed her own heart to protect itself from Tara's words, Tara's eyes, Tara's spirit.

"W-We'll b-be with y-you no m-matter wh-what you choose, s-so long as you ch-choose to l-l-live. C-Cor-Cordelia, D-Dawn, even G-Giles. W-We care ab-about you," Tara promised.

"I lost the only thing I always counted on. Maybe it don't matter to other people, but I always felt desirable. No matter what I knew my looks would get me out of a mess. I ain't got that now. I got the face of a murderer and the heart of one too. I can't get free," Faith finally bit out. The moment the words left her mouth she sighed and hid her face.

"Sure it's stupid, but how can I leave the house when children scream to look at me. I can't live like this, nightmares following me in the waking. Fuck, Slaying didn't make me feel better. My Calling couldn't calm me. I'm too fucking wrong."

Tara grimaced. Faith sneered. Tara fought to respond. She'd put so much of her soul on the line for Faith – she wasn't sure how much more she had to give.

"Make it better. Don't mope. Get out there and fight to be worth the beauty that I still see in you. Do it for yourself or everything I've sacrificed, everything we've sacrificed in love and pain to see you safe will be meaningless in the end. You have to start loving again or living won't be worth the trouble. Goddamnit Faith, I didn't lose my love over you just to watch you tear yourself apart again," Tara blurted suddenly, her rare temper bursting free. She gaped as the words left her mouth, but did not slow or retract them.

Shock stilled Faith's fidgeting form. The words swirled through her brain, making several passes. She tasted them, rubbed their coarseness, smelled the potency within. She shook herself free of distraction and walked to Tara. Her selfishness disgusted her. She should have noticed Tara's pain earlier, should have worked to be the woman Tara saw in her. She hoped to make up for her latest failure.

Standing, she walked to Tara's seat. The blonde sat transfixed, petrified. When Faith merely sat down next to her and took her soft hand in a bandaged one, she sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry. I've wasted your help. You deserve the love that you lost back. You deserve a parade. I…I want to make it up to you. I'll begin life anew. Your pain will not be in vain. I didn't realize, I get so self-centered. I'm sorry. I want you ta know that, no matter what happens, I-I'll have your back. I owe you for everything. You're my hero, Tare," Faith stated, choked. Her eloquence dissolved into weak slurs.

"We can heal together, you and I. I-I'll make myself strong enough to carry your burdens if you'll ease mine."

Tara began to cry. She held Faith to her, burying her fears in strong arms and soft hair. She could almost taste Faith's long-forgotten hope as it surfaced.

Dawn crept back into the living room, ice cream carton and three spoons in hand.

"Tare, Fai?" she called out. "Mind if I join?" Her words broke the women into laughing fits. All was well again, it seemed. For the moment, demons were dead and buried.

* * *

That night, Tara slept fitfully. Her rest was torn by nightmares and the cold dread of loneliness.

_Tara rushed to the kitchen. She felt her stomach clenching in fear. _I'm late_, she lamented. She rushed to prepare her father's breakfast. He charged into the kitchen thunderously, as he always did. The eggs were not quite finished, the toast in the oven. Tara cringed._

"_Tara!" her father roared. His anger stretched across his face. She twitched fearfully._

"_S-Sorry, f-father, I-I-I-I'll d-d-d-do b-b-b-better f-f-father.I-I-I s-s-swear it!" Her stutter caught her throat. She choked on her words, fought with them. Her father approached. _

"_Dirty bitch! Just like your mother. Disobedient. I can't wait until you taste Hell, you slut. Your godforsaken soul tortured to the best of Satan's abilities. All you demon women will rot in Hell!" His exclamation was punctuated by a vicious backhand. Tara fell to the floor. She scrambled to stand, rushing back to the stove to salvage her father's food._

"_Got my fucking food yet?" He grumbled instantly. She served him as swiftly and carefully as she could manage while still shaking. He then left her alone in the kitchen. She forced herself not to run to her mother. The last time she'd done so, she'd been punished for her perceived 'plotting' against the men of the house. She didn't want to feel her father's belt ever again._

_She was eight years old._

When she woke, she found herself wishing to be with Faith or Cordelia. Each would have reassured her. In her own home, though, she could find no peace.

* * *

In the heart of the British countryside, a Jewish Wicca calmed. Willow Rosenburg considered herself to be a woman of reason and logic. Emotionless she was not, but she was careful to think before she acted. She began to wonder what about Faith made her act so incredibly irrationally. She could hardly remember the words she'd thrown at her love, so great had her anger been.

She allowed the training to soothe her. She regained slow control over her latent magical ability. She tried not to let herself be bothered when witches of the coven whispered that she might have destroyed the world one day. Mostly, she tried not to let herself believe that it could be true.

She missed her friends, but not terribly. She knew that she needed time to work out what to say to them. She mused that even a few weeks ago she'd been plotting. It was much too early to trust herself. Going home was a ridiculous thought. She needed to sort herself out.

Surrounded by nothing but magic and yet not using any, she felt her spirit's restless anger lessen.

She twisted a smile. _I must have faith_, she murmured under her breath. Her mentor, at her elbow, raised an eyebrow but continued to speak.

* * *

Dawn confronted Faith over the phone.

"What was that about, yesterday?" she all but growled into the mouthpiece.

"Don't worry yourself too much, Dawnie." Faith replied, "There's a lot of fighting going on in me right now, but it'll get itself sorted. We'll be okay, T and me."

Dawn sighed.

"But why are you being so difficult?"

"Because I dunna know how else to be, twink. I dunna how to live like I believe I deserve it, and that will take some…time. But soon, someday soon I'll be there to help you the way you've done for me."

Finally she smiled.

"That better be a promise, Ex-Con."

"Yes, ma'am."

The dial tone pressed against Dawn's ear, but anger was far from her mind. An odd sort of pride washed over her.

* * *

Cordelia did not immediately forgive Faith for scaring her so. She admitted to herself both that she still enjoyed a bit of groveling now and then and that Faith had come to be the family she had always wanted. She refused to let her dearest friend go, and she damn well would not let that friend be lost to her own foolishness.

But Cordelia was not unreasonable, and so as soon as she heard of the progress that Tara had made with Faith, she stopped glaring at Faith and biting at her with words. They instead lapsed into their old comfortable friendship: Faith teased Cordelia and Cordelia teased Faith and in the end both were the merrier for it.

Not for the first time, Cordelia thanked a God she wasn't certain of for Tara's presence in their lives.

* * *

Faith managed to find work at a local nightclub, bouncing. While she still wanted to hide her to her mind disgusting face, her boss had seemed impressed with it. He told her that it would keep away trouble far better than any bulky muscles or creepy moustaches would. She tried to smile, but couldn't.

The club had one front entrance and two back entrances. She was assigned to the back because that was where the action would be, Damien (the boss) said, and he was going out on a limb with the idea that she'd be able to handle it.

The first night she worked, two men tried to get past her with a severely drunk woman in tow. She stopped them and recommended getting a cab to drive the woman home – the way they held her told her that whatever they had planned was not consensual. They'd laughed at first.

"What're you gon'ta do, _girl_?" they taunted. She'd shown her face and they'd jerked back.

"Tear you apart," she said. Her calm, rough voice scared them further.

They threw the blonde into her arms and rushed off, disturbed. She'd held the girl up as she called a cab and sent her home.

She felt like she'd finally found a way to be useful again. She felt like she was fighting the good fight again, without anyone checking every moment to see she wasn't fucking up.

She smiled, but kept every mirror hidden from sight.

* * *

Back in bright old Sunnydale, danger brewed. The super spy agent group that Buffy's toyfriend worked for had set free a metal monster that seemed to come out of _Frankenstein_.

Angel's group got word of the problem and were debating coming down to SunnyD to help. Buffy was generally pretty independent, but she'd already been injured (nothing too major, mostly bruised pride, she said) fighting the beast once and they were worried.

Cordelia didn't feel that it was time yet to bring Buffy up with Faith. She remembered Faith's self-destruction in Sunnydale, and how much of it was centered on Buffy. She hated to think that they might have to bring Faith back into the fight so soon. While she knew Faith could not hide from her Calling or her Sister Slayer forever, she felt her stomach clench into knots at the thought of putting her through the trauma of seeing Buffy again.

Nothing ever went smoothly, Cordelia moaned to herself.


End file.
